He called
last night. We broke up 3 months ago—a fact I realized at a very traumatic and
interesting two weeks ago. When mastering numbing myself I wonder as to the
psychological mind-fuck of which the individual is incapable.
The situation
is messy and exhausting. I still don’t know why we broke up—realizing only
after he told me that he’s commissioned into the army that we were never going
to be together again. The secret fairy tale wish of Columbia and the East Coast
cease to conjure any truth—not that they ever did. But there was a hope and I
being incredibly good at this, made this hope into a reality.
The point
is: what? Just what the fuck do I do with the man I could still be in love with
moving to Monterey for specialized training in the military. Do I start dating
a man I broke up with? I’ve already done that with mark and john and this is
not a habit I’d wish to discuss in therapy. The topics are so numerous that
developing another issue would only burden.
I look in
the mirror—directly into the peepers and repeated; I don’t love Jeremy”. It
felt wrong. It felt like a lie. But my last sentence also felt like one. So…