For some weird reason, I don’t know what to feel or do anymore.
It’s been a month. One whole month since we broke up.
It’s never been me to make a big deal about anything. (Maybe that’s the whole problem.) That may be the reason why I realy haven’t told anyone of it yet save for some really close friends at work who actualy have met her, in part or otherwise, and then some wiling eavesdroppers also at work. Not even my family knows about it yet. Like what I told her, maybe soon, maybe later, definitely in passing. I’ve always been the guy who rarey tells anyone anything or everything, except maybe under the premise of a court order or my own life and death, and I wouldn’t be otherwise to that family now, more than ever, not only because I believe I’m a tad too old for that (We were never raised that way, communicating, albeit the fact that we are all pretty darn good communicators in the family, so to speak, in quite different forms of communication though, or agression for some.), and then again, I just don’t really want to make big deal about it.
I am numb now.
I don’t know how to feel about it. They always said that feelings are exactly such, feelings, and that there is no right or wrong feelings, because no one can validly say how anyone should or would feel about anything. We just recognize them as is, for whatever that’s worth. I think that’s al you can realy ever do about feelings anyway, whether they be yours or others, just recognize that it’s there and by virtue of what is socially “good” or “bad” feelings, try to either perpetuate or sustain those feelings, or try to turn them around. Come to think of it, they’re pretty much useless, these things called emotions. (Now saying that would definitey be different, as it would certainly ruffle any hopeless romantic’s feathers any day.)
But since the rational part of me takes over uncontrolably, being male and all, I’l just have to make do to what I think I feel, much less that the actual emotions themselves, but who in hell cares.
I think I feel angry. I’m mad. I’m mad in such a way that thinking of it just robs me of all energy to actually realize or let out the anger. Mad in such a way that I may tip the breaking point anytime soon, and I know this because I think I know just how maddening this is, but moreso what’s holding me back is the fact that I know I’m going to tip and my logical self tries to overanalyze myself out of tipping and into utter emotional exhaustion.
I was three years in concept, less than two by technicality. I guess long distance relationships must always be counted in that way when it comes to break-ups.
And now I am back at one. I think I feel scared. I don’t think I know how to deal with another relationship anymore. I think I just don’t want to. I don’t want to imagine that I’d have to start over again. I am not ready, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be again. Three years down the drain, no matter how anyone would put it. Fine, there were happy days, days that you couldn’t now just look back without feeling some sort of regret, remorse even, in the fact that there may be no other day as happy or as exciting again to come because of that person who triggered it is long gone out of reach. There were lessons learned for sure, but lessons that I don’t think I’d have ever learned if not for those moments with her. I’d have to unlearn them in one way or another if I am to go through that again. If not to detach associating those lessons from the face who taught it to me. And e veryone knows how unlearning things could be on a conscious level.
I haven’t cried yet. I know I should somehow but my tears happen to fail me now. That may be part and parcel why I think it all feels weird altogether. How can I say later, much more later on, that I have completely moved on when I haven’t been even able to grieve about it. Yes, there were those days I just kinda missed work just because, just because I was too full of work that I could, would have used one night off from all the talking, maybe that was just it, I have absolutely no idea. Maybe sleep was just my only refuge. But refuge from what, still puzzles me. Still. Swear to all things good, I’m definitely an oaf when it comes to all of this. Hey, it’s me: your personal cynical, clinical, casual friend. Might have been a casual boyfriend too.
I’m just taking it day by day. There are times when I just stop and stare blankly at those places that we’ve been, imagining what we would have looked from the outside. I can hear them guys saying now, “He’s one lucky asshole to be with her”, or them ladies going, “What the hell did he see in her?” or some close approximation of either thought. Well, I was with her once, was being the operative word now, and beats me, I don’t know either. Agonizing over nothing at all really, that was just it. Fun but now its over.
Sorry, I think I still love her. I could never imagine falling for anyone else now but as long as she’s happy being single and all, I think there’s nothing else I could really offer her now.
Better for me just stand back and watch wave after wave of memories break themselves on me and rouse me back to sanity. I say just keep them coming.

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