It still hurts a lot, but it does for different reasons. First there was the pain of having my heart broken in a million pieces. Then there was the pain of feeling lonely and missing the past. Now it’s humiliation. Humiliation for having misjudged someone so much, for seeing something so different from the truth and letting it hurt me in ways I wouldn’t think possible.
I will probably never forgive him, but I need to forgive myself.
Tonight I dreamt about you and the conversation we never had. The one where we just speak out all of our feelings. You were talking so calmly, and I was just crying and crying and being desperate. But somehow it didn’t even feel like it was you. It was this cold hearted person that I couldn’t even recognise. And then I realised that I wasn’t crying because you were leaving me, I was crying because you didn’t exist anymore. The persone I felt in love with, completely gone. So I guess this in not about being left, it’s about suffering a bereavement. We didn’t break up, you died.
Sex and the City is probably the only thing I can watch right now. Even though I’ve watched that show a hundred times, there’s always something reassuring about knowing that everyone sooner or later goes through the same shit, and then moves on, and then other shit happens and so on. Maybe not 100% reassuring in a “happily ever after” manner, but still, a down moment has to be followed by a great time. It has to. Right?
I live in a shared flat, so when I cry I turn my hairdryer on. My flatmates probably think I’m constantly taking showers, which is not a bad thing, I guess. I am sorry about the bills, sorry about wasting electricity, but I’d rather not hear myself sob out loud.
Everyone keeps telling me that it’s going to be ok, and what I think is “Yeah I know, you think I’m stupid?”. We all know time will heal us, makes us forget and move on. We all know we’ll find “someone better”. We know it, but we don’t believe it. So let’s just let our friends, mothers, random people or whoever, remind us of that over and over again.
I went to a job interview just to get out of the house. Not shopping, not to get an ice cream, to a fucking job interview. Good thing is, I didn’t even care about it, so I was pretty relaxed. Who cares about work when your heart is broken right?
Another good thing, I kept thinking “Wow you’re fucking strong just for doing this”. And truth is, I am fucking strong for even waking up in the morning.
In the bus on my way home I started crying like crazy, just couldn’t handle it anymore. Not so fucking strong anymore. A lady I never saw before in my life sat next to me and convinced it to get a coffee and just talk about it. I said yes because I just didn’t know what to do anymore. Turned out it made me feel a little bit better. Well, I still felt like shit to be honest, but it was so good to see that there are actually amazing and caring random people out there.
First day you feel like you are going to die. Literally. There is no way your heart can physically hurt so much unless you’re about to have a heart attack. And what about breathing? Feels like you’re underwater, or just ran a marathon in space with no gravity. Body is extremely slow, every little movement requires a titanic effort.
But truth is, you’re not dying. And you’re not dumb, you know that already. But that doesn’t make any difference at all does it?