Single Again

Every time I think I'm finished crying, I start breathing. The breath catches somewhere between my tongue and my lungs and turns into a sob. And then that's it for a while.

Eric and I broke up tonight.

If there is a silver lining: it was one of the best break ups I've had. There was no drama or acrimony or resentment; I might have said one or two foolish things, but neither of us said anything particularly regrettable.

Though right now I really do want to shake him till his ears ring. I want to make him figure out why I wasn't good enough to stay in love with, and tell me, goddamit. I want to make him understand what he is giving up in me.

He already does, and he already did. A while ago, truthfully.

After he had said it, after it was out, after it was decided, I wanted him to leave as soon as possible and also to never get his ass up off the couch. Because as long as he was there with me, there was still a possibility that he wouldn't disappear when he walked out the door.

But once you've decided you can't be together, how much really is there to say?

We did find a few things, though it was mostly me just blathering to stretch the time. Eventually, he got up and left. We had one last hug. I told him I loved him. He didn't answer. He's not a liar, never was.