It's hard to believe how quickly time has passed, and that it'll almost be 4 weeks to The Day. The day my heart broke into a million pieces. The day he decided enough was enough. The day all the hopes and plans and dreams shattered into nothing.
I try to look back at how I survived, but it's all a blurry mess. Lots of alcohol, an insane amount of time crying, meeting random people and just remembering to breathe. Don't even get me started on the huge dent in the bank account. Bleh.
One can't help but wonder: how did it all fall apart? When? Why? (Well, everyone now knows that he was unhappy. Apparently for the longest time.) Does he even care? How come he never called, was it that easy to move on?
I lapsed, twice in fact, and made contact when I shouldn't. Both times I was greeted with a certain coolness, an offhandish demeanour that assured me that he had already put us in the past.
But really, that's all we are, isn't it? Past tense. A memory of almost two happy years.
I shouldn't be thinking about this now. Not when I've made so much progress moving on. But I can't help the hot tears that roll off my eyes, soaking my pillow.
You'd think it'd be easy, what with the many experiences I have dealing with heartbreak. But somehow this time is different. I have to remember the outcome will always be the same. I'll survive this, life goes on.