Well, fuck that, I'm 5'1. I can cry all I want.
It's over, again. This time for good. This time it was my call, I made it. He agreed, it was the right decision. He told me how wonderful I am, and how I would sooner rather than later find someone who could see that like he did, someone who would want the same things out of life that I did. I got teary-eyed. He got teary-eyed. I walked out of the door, and made it all the way down the hall before completely breaking down.
And that's been the story for the remainder of the day, pretty much. I know it was the right thing. I know it. But never in a million years did I realize that it would be this hard.
They say only time will heal you, this too shall pass. Well, it's been less than 12 hours. And. I. Miss. Him. So. Much.
Why time? Why can't it be, say, brie? Or red wine, or you know, Cheetos? How about Butterfingers and cookie dough? Why can't Starbucks heal me? Why, of all the things that could be the sole cure for this loneliness, this grief, is TIME the only thing that will make it go away? The problem with time, it seems, is that it takes TOO DAMN LONG!
But it works. Everyone says so. Before I knew anything as wonderful as this man existed, countless boys brought my world to a halt. Time healed me then. Time will heal me now. Well, no, actually, not NOW. Not even tomorrow. Or the next day. But there will be a day, hopesfully soon, when I will in fact be just fine. Maybe--here's a crazy thought--better than fine.
I ripped off the band-aid. This is the sting I knew I'd feel, and Lordy, it hurts. It hurts so bad I can't see straight. I could season food with tears, I shit you not. It was a hell of a wound, and I never let it heal. Now is when that needs to happen. This too shall pass, and yes, time alone will get me to the other side.
So go ahead time. Do your thing. I'll be patient. But if you could pretty please make this as quick as possible, I'd appreciate it.
1 week ago