Needless to say I am a wreck. I feel broken, cheated, shocked. This came out of NOWHERE. Well, not yesterday. A few weeks ago he had threatened to leave. I guess I should've known then, that despite his going on to confess things he'd never told me, that he cried, that he said he didn't think it through, that he did love me--I should've have known then and dumped his ass.
Is that what I did? Of course not. I cried, begged him not leave, vowed to do whatever it would take to change things. We were a team, right? He was my partner, right? Isn't that what we were? Apparently not. Apparently our relationship doesn't mean enough to him for him to actually want to work on it. He's choosing to leave and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
I never thought this was a possibility. Seriously, it never entered my mind. We moved to DC to start our life together, and it's been beautiful, at least to me. I love (*gulp* loved?) sharing a life with him, figuring things out together, working things out. For him, it has been dissatisfying and left him unsettled. How did I not see this? Maybe I did and didn't want to admit it.
Now there's the question of this blog. As a former Grad-Student Girlfriend, do I get to continue writing? I will say that at least for now it feels pretty damn good to vent, and I'm thankful that only a few of you who read this even know who I am. The anonymity feels secure at the moment.
I'm working at the library and picked up a copy of He's Just Not that Into You. There's a whole chapter called "He's Just Not That Into You If He's Breaking Up with You." Ouch. Hard to read. But true nonetheless. Why do I want to try so hard to keep someone who is breaking my heart, tearing me up inside, who can look me in the eyes and say "I don't want to be in a relationship with you"?
Now there's the messy situation of the fact that we fucking live together. As far as I'm concerned, he's the one doing the breaking up, he can find a new place to live. But I don't know if I can afford all the expenses of the apartment by myself. I don't know what to do about it. It's so hard having him physically there. I want to run into his arms, have him hold me close, even though he's the one who hurt me. I think it'd be easier if it wasn't a possibility.
Now I'm thinking of all the "never gonna happen again" scenarios. This is perhaps the most difficult part so far. Never going to take another trip, never going to go out to a nice dinner, watch a movie and snuggle together, never again. Ugh, I feel like I'm torturing myself with all of these thoughts. I'm trying to focus on work, on anything else, but every few minutes I find myself running into the nearest bathroom to bawl my eyes out. In short, I am justifiably pathetic.