How I miss the time when I didn’t have a clue who the man I loved was, the time when I’d think of him, and feel only endless, boundless love. So much love that I’d have to sing or dance or just laugh aloud with joy. The joy of having him in my life.
But that blissful happiness is long gone. And it will never come back, not to us. I’ve known that from the moment I discovered his betrayal, but I refused to let go. There is so much about him that I love, so much that I can’t bear to imagine my life without. So I insisted on investing myself in a relationship with a man who is totally wrong for me. Not because he is a bad man, but because his idea of love is very different from my own.
And for a year now I’ve felt hopelessly, completely fucked. And every day I’ve blamed him for making me believe in the illusion, only to take it away from me, in a heartbeat. I still do.
I try to behave, but inevitably the hurt strikes out of me, just when I think I’ve got it under control. It’s only natural: you can’t act normally if you don’t feel normal. My basic spiritual need, to channel my feelings constructively, is becoming a challenge I can’t live up to. That alone is a clear sign that this is the wrong path to take. It has to stop. I must be strong and put some distance between us so that one day I’ll be able to relate to him without this anger.
Hayden, it’s still too early to come home.