Deleted.

From my phone.

I finally got enough courage to delete his number. I no longer have immediate access to him on a whim. The truth is, he doesn't want me anymore. Well, he does want me - when he has time, when he sees fit and if I'm "behaving". In other words - am I being nice?

A more "relaxed" version of our relationship - friends? (On his terms.) He has to get his life in order and I'm 'a distraction' - a 'responsibility' that he can't deal with right now.

I have every reason to hate him yet I can't. I have tried. I ended things first but he didn't put up a fight. Why would he? It's what he wanted me to do.

My health has suffered because of the drama it has played in my life. As I'm writing this, my face is numb and I'm hyperventilating.

Why?

Perhaps, admitting that it's really, really over is a huge deal for me? That it's time to move on? Being single, dating, being judged and rejected, rejected and judged. Saying the same things over and over to perfect strangers. Do I even want to date????

Probably not.

I can't even wrap my head around the tragedy that still plays in my head every second I'm in this house. Remembering the times we shared in what we called 'our home'. Standing in what used to be her room....

It makes me hate this house. I want to move.

I haven't written a whole lot about what I have been going through with this break up. It's been harder than I want to admit. I miss everything. Even the bad times. I'm happy he seems happier. I'm happy because I care and I want the best for him but even a plant needs attention.

Or it dies.