It Was a Bit of Betrayal.

Not even two weeks out and the ex got a new girlfriend. Yeah, wrote to you all that my heart felt like it had been skinned alive? Now it feels like it has literally been ripped out of my chest, raked across grating and mercilessly shoved back in me. Do I look like a mofo heart surgeon people!!? Hell, I can't even fucking sew up a hole in a sock. Best part? He didn't even call, e-mail, text, nothing. No heads up. Has he called since last week when this new pile of fecal matter hit my already shit clogged fan? Nope.

That sucks.

Three weeks straight of crying, every day, at least thrice. And I'm not talking about little pathetic whimpers, I'm talking about heart-wrenching sobbing. FML. Why the hell am I so weak? I'm considering buying my heart a little door mat saying "Welcome to Hell". Because literally, I have no idea how long it is going to take me to have the capacity to love again. And he's already got some ginger sucking his cock off. WHAT. THE. FUCK. It makes me physically ill. I literally don't understand how a person could do that. And yet, pathetic as I am, all I really want is to know that if I text him, he will respond. Will he?

No.

I can't eat, can't sleep and literally have to listen to music 24/7 that way if I get distracted from what I'm doing, there's only a 50% chance my brain will default to my ex and not to listening to the lyrics of the music. Waking up feels like I get punched in the stomach. I have my ritual morning cry, amaze myself that I can make it through the day and then go home and crawl into bed feeling utterly alone and hopelessly lost. You see, the thing is, I never considered any one place my home. I guess my parent's house, but my ex's house and my apartment are equally my home. Rather than investing home in a place, I've always invested it in other people. Because I mean, it's not a place that makes you feel safe and loved and comfortable, it's the people in it. So, needless to say, my ex IS my home. Literally. I am emotionally naked in front of him. No secrets. He knows all my secrets and strengths and he taught me to trust in him and tell him everything because he would protect those secrets. That's huge for me, because I think him and my one sister are the only two people who know everything about me. And realistically, it was really only my ex who knew EVERYTHING. So, basically, especially since he refuses to talk to me, I feel abandoned. Homeless.

I guess that's part of the reason why these past three weeks have been the WORST time of my life. I lost my lover, but more than that I lost my home, my sense of identity, my strength. And I just couldn't let him go. I was clutching onto the ghost of our failed relationship, trapping it like you would trap a light-bug in your hands. But I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of being in pain and being so sad and hurt. So, at 3AM I called my best friend, sobbed to her and she told me I had to let go. When you love something you try to trap it, because let's face it, humans are selfish and weak. We don't want to be alone. We want someone to care for us, make us feel special and happy. And, we want to make others feel that too. Even if it means warping whatever that something was, we refuse to let go.

So, I finally found my mantra: baby steps. I can't feel better overnight. Not in a week or in a month or even several months. I can't just start dating again after two weeks. What we had meant something to me, and I loved him very, very deeply. I still do. I really hope that at the end of it all, he knows how much I loved him. And that it's killing me, but I have to leave this. I have to set it down and keep walking. Taking little baby steps and refusing to turn back. I don't want to, I want to turn around and run back into his arms but the thing is is he put up this barrier that I can't get around. Maybe if I walk far enough I can circle the globe back to him, but by then whatever we had will be long behind me. Maybe in his own way, he is still taking care of me by doing this. It's sick and inappropriate and hurtful, but it gives me the tiniest bit of comfort. So, I don't really care how broken that makes me, if it helps me take another step forward I'll use it until one day I have to leave that behind too. I can't become Miss Havisham, I'm not going to stop my clock at twenty to nine.

Saturday was the first day in three weeks that I didn't cry. I cried on Sunday, but you know what? I went one day without crying. Baby steps. I don't think that this is going to get any better. I don't think that this burden will ever get any lighter, that the scar will ever fade or my heart will ever be put back right again, but I do have to believe that it will get easier. For three weeks I woke up hoping that the day would be better than the last. It wasn't. It wasn't easier either. But since this past weekend, when at 3AM I took the biggest blind leap of faith into nothing, it's started to. When I just took a deep breath and let go. Yeah, sometimes I find myself scrambling to catch it, but I can't. I'll never be able to. I dropped it into orbit around the Earth, hell if I'll be able to catch up with it now. This is going to suck. This is going to take a while. But for right now, I'm just going to focus on taking the next little step forward.


"There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go." -Tennesse Williams