Woke with hesitance this morning. It was obviously an appealling idea to simply lay in this bed of mine and decide to do nothing, to feel nothing….but I can’t help it. Heartbreak is one of those emotions that requires urgency and healing. Should it be left to linger, an explosive reaction might occur. I realized I’ve been heartbroken for weeks, possibley months, and that’s precisely what prompted me to finally explode. It’s easy for me to say that I’m recently single, but I don’t think he and I were ever together. At every possible opportunity, he found a reason to move cross country, or across the state. I’m still in awe of the way in which he said, “I only wanted a summer romance….” And then had the nerve to make references to a song by Lady Gaga. Jesus.
So, I rose from bed, walked up to St. George (a 6 mile hike to mail a bear that someone bought) and trekked home to find myself crying under these rainy clouds, and swampy mugginess.
The best part about being out here, alone, was the hopefulness I had that we’d finally pull ourselves out of this darkness that had been plaguing us and finally FINALLY be together….Alas, the hope I clung to was false. I was reminded, through his simple actions, that I was involved with someone who didn’t really care if I was around or not.
So what happens next? Obviously, he and I should have no more contact. None. And it doesn’t seem necessary anyway. For myself? Continue moving back to my future, to return to the life I once claimed as my own, where I wrote books, knit up things quickly, and paved a way for my own future with promises made only to myself.
I don’t love him, but thanks to his disinterest in me, I finally love myself….