im not sure what to make of this anymore.
i've wandered from the point of complete collapse into a state much more subtle, but still bubbling with anger underneath.

i do not forgive him for doing this to me. no one deserves to be dragged along, waiting for a word, a sign, anything for a month ... told to keep waiting, waiting for the turn around. waiting for the light bulb to come on, the heart to warm, the blood to flow. no one deserves to be given hope one day, then have it torn from you the next. a bipolar change with consequences. cruelllllll so cruel. and even though hypothesized, never was it real to me that he could leave. that he could leave for a lack of love. that he could say i just went dark. inside and right before him. I asked, "even now? when you see me? can touch me? when you look in my eyes?"

he shook his head, bit his lip. and my heart endured a series of silent explosions. sputtered and sank in between my ribs. floated and seeped. sank. sank.

to lay next to him the last night. watch him sleep. watch him dream carelessly. not of me, of my hurt. not of my love for him, my aching to touch him, for him to hold me ... the first of my many pains.

to watch him leave. walk out the door, the second.

to wait for him to hear my violent sobs and return, just one last time ... only to hear the back door slam. footsteps outside ... the most painful, the third.

i have been strong. no calls to him. no drunken texts, no desperate emails.
and yet, none from him. my doubts of his decision as being impulsive are dashed.
i am beginning to see that he will not be coming back this time.

his things, I packed. and hid them in the spare bedroom. i still sleep in his bed, regrettably. and i must try very hard to pretend its not.
the letters he wrote from london. the promises. the love. lve. lka;awkf l;waf
and they're gone too.
thrown into a box. for him to throw away if he pleases. i cannot bare to destroy them. hope?
no. just fear. denial. all those bitter spices.

i feed his fish. i hate them. dont want them to die, but i hate them.

i have been strong. only cry in front of people when provoked. only accept help when im drunk, and afraid i might do something stupid if not comforted.

my sense of history is destroyed.
i cannot remember good times, bad. i feel that im in a tunnel and the lights turn off behind me as i pass underneath them, warning me not to return.

and i cant. voluntarily. however, strange things remind me of him and i cannot help but look back to catch a glimpse of those snap shots of good.

william shatner.
men with beards.
girls that look like his public allie friends.
wrist bands
lucky charms.

every piece of my day is lived with a hunched protective posture. i cannot expose myself too much to anything, for fear it will turn me into mush. a gloppy, sniveling puddle of pathetic girl slop.

in class. during a song. when im in the shower. when i take a drink of water ... it comes and goes unplanned, uncalled for.

and I MISS him so much. I miss him. i can hardly stand to exist. to put up this front, to go to class, smile at my professors, take notes in my book. i am disgusted with it all.


i know, deep down in my heart, that this needed to happen for him. he would never appreicate me if i wasnt actually gone from his life.

so now. here it is baby. here is the grand prize.

you are lonely, scared, and PROUD. through it all, you probably feel relieved! Good! Im glad for you!

give it a month. give it longer. look around. see me live without you. see me make do.

i'm waiting for you baby.

Coward.

you gave up what you announced to a whole room full of strangers that i was the best thing that ever happened to you.

for what?











lord strike me down if you even know.