Diary Of A Break-up

waiting on the sadness

Under no circumstances should it be easy to archive feeling as quickly as it does happen. Apparently I have a lightening quick emotional metabolism because the pain pools out into dismay and then filters through into the I didn't realise I wasn't in love anymore phase. This is when I meet someone else. It's been barely three weeks. And after 6 years no one should be able to get my attention this quickly. But she does. Meet is the wrong word. Re-meet is more appropriate. We had met at a social gathering and because I was a terrible person I had already felt myself drawn to her. But the smallest drip-drop of decency pulled me home to you. Which is amusing in part since I realise now you had already fallen out of love with me, and it was merely your possessive nature thay demanded my attention on you. But, fair enough we were still together.

You didn't like her. It was clear from the outset. And I shouldn't have found her so soon afterwards. But we found each other and somehow it's easier to help her carry her baggage than it is to drag mine.

And we are good. Healthy. Loving. Kind. Thoughtful. And we belong to each other. A rather unique feeling.

But I do have my moments. Moments where I feel my heart swollen with our end. Days when my stomach is leaden with our death.

You stopped talking to me, when I chose her. Which is good for both of us. You are fuming and dislocated in your world and I am wandering around in mine with these new feelings.

I miss you. But not for you. I miss the memories and the sanctity of our relationship. I miss the commitment I was secure in. I miss knowing exactly who my partner was. Yes, I still hate that word, but I use it now.

Everything here is so new. So clean. Also breakable. I am scared. But you gave me this chance and for that I should be grateful.