6-11

He is leaving today.

I  have not seen him in a month, we have been over for a month. I ceased the texts 4 days ago after he had been telling me that he loves me and that he cannot bear the thought of leaving without seeing me. I declined. Will I regret it? How can I trust the sincerity of his pleas. I wish the circumstances were different, however, as it stands, I have no desire or wish to see him again nor do I have regrets regarding my decision to break up. 

I am beyond broken, hurt, bitter, I still love him and I miss him. I wonder what he is doing now, what he is wearing and I get so heavy hearted but I feel embarrassed by my own unrelenting foolishness. When does the heart cease to love? To ruminate? Is there a switch to turn it all off? God! I am getting better and worse as the days progress. Waves. No progress. Cement.

I don’t know what time his flight is, is he lugging his luggage in a busy airport wearing his black coat with the oversized collar, are we still on the same soil, is he thinking of me. I ended things a month ago. Why should all this matter? It shouldn’t, but it does. I miss him. His warm breath. Our conversations. The snippets of our relationship that I cherished. 

A quietly raging cold wind is settling in the place where he is leaving. I can’t conceal this unhinging of me. My parents are concerned about the state of me. Now they wake up?? I’m so far gone

 I spend the mornings and afternoons angry at him, telling myself he is a low life and that I’m glad I left when I finally woke up. I deceive myself that I am healing and free. I binge and purge to numb the pain. At some point during the day, that wheel of destruction comes to a screeching halt and I am left with the torture of facing myself and my unrewarding reality.

6-11 pm. These are the most difficult and darkest hours of my days. The tears, the flood of emotions, the helplessness. 

It’s 6:07pm and I don’t think I can carry on. But I must. I know I wil but for how long. Something has to give.

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