Its strange to know that the change from you being there and you being gone was instantaneous. Like none before you, you left no hope of return upon your exit. You looked at me, not with your previous tenderness, but with a resoluteness that chilled me to my core. As one who was so very firmly decided. And I know that your departure will be swift. There are no letters to reminisce over. No songs to torture. No wavering from your choice. Ours was a relationship that was only in person. It was only in each others presences. And just like that, it is gone. It amazes me how quickly there is nothing left where once there was so much.
You werent unfair in how you broke up with me. You weren't unduly cruel. Besides, of course, the breaking of my heart. But I gave it to you easily and freely. And I knew this was a possibility of such an act. I only wish you would have wanted it. That it wasnt so easy to discard.
I wanted you. I wanted us. But I am no stranger to disappointment. Each man chooses his own path. And love is never enough. And while my heart aches, I also know that I am one who was built to weather such storms, no matter the wear it leaves. I am no stranger to disappointment. And I have become well suited for it.
So there is that.
All my best. All my love.
Its the frustration and sense of failure
and the nagging notion that I'll never
be enough that I find altogether less
than pleasurable - the math of too
much somehow adding up to not
enough. Too emotional, too honest,
too demanding, too picky, too much
of too many things. Altogether, not
enough. Somehow, still not enough.