I’m not a big Rolling Stones fan, but this song got stuck in my head while I was writing yesterday’s post…
To read Part 1, click HERE
After all that bullshit, we didn’t have another interaction for 6 days.
And it’s the 5th week of barely any contact…
On that Friday afternoon, he sent me a text. “You won’t believe it, but I hyperextended my knee playing basketball last night.”
He was right. I didn’t believe it…
“Oh, that’s terrible,” I answered.
There were a few more trite comments where I tried to be nice and pretend like I gave a shit.
Then our chat was over.
He’s gone. I shouldn’t be so sad anymore.
But I am.
He’s gone. I should feel relief instead of loneliness.
But I don’t.
He’s gone. I need reach out to others for support.
But I can’t.
He’s gone. I still hate myself for being so stupid.
But I’m not.
He’s gone. So, why am I still broken?
Because he never refilled my cup.
After drinking so selfishly from it…
I took him back.
I was so ashamed that I couldn’t write about it.
Just like all those other times before I stopped writing because of him.
Because I didn’t want to hear your objections.
Because you were right.
And at the end end of it all, I ultimately broke.