Sara

I just had--last weekend just--resorted the books so that they were more orderly on the shelves. And now I'll have to go through and sort his out.

I need to go through the bills again to make sure I can pay everything. Some cuts might need to be made. I might take money out of my savings in order to pay off a few credit cards so I don't have those hanging over my head every month. I can get rid of Netflix. I can take his phone off my cell bill.

I hope taking his name off the lease doesn't do anything to the retroactive monthly rent. If it does, I'll have to move.

I have to tell my parents.

I haven't slept. I talked to him and then called my friend Patrick and then called tsylyst and then called him again and then called laele75 at which point it was verging on 5am. I get up at 6am. There was no point in sleeping. I can't sleep anyway.

I still love him. He still loves me. But we're not working. And we were both unhappy for at least a year and neither of us talked about it. At least not to each other. He apparently spoke of it to other people. I, being silent as churches, did not. I am not bashing here. I am above that in such a public venue. People have been told details. People I needed to tell because of how important they are to me and how much it hurt. Still hurts. Will likely hurt for a while to come.

The bottom line is that we were hurting each other a lot more staying together than being apart.

I don't believe him when he says someone else will love me. I don't. He can disagree with that, but it's an opinion he's going to have to learn to live with.

I'm going to work today to talk to my manager. Currently, he and I are at the same building and while we would do nothing to jeopardize the other's career, it will be painful and awkward. Not to mention that my entire real life support group is in the other building, my original building. And I sort of, kind of need them right now. I'm not in the habit of needing people too much. Case in point being the entire reason for this post.

It's strange.

I'm admitting. I'm rambling. I am letting out because I spent so long holding in, and that made me so tired. So tired. It stopped everything from going. My words were gone

It's strange, but I wanted this. It hurts. Oh, it aches. It's seven years of memories and love and pain and fear and trust and companionship that I don't know what to do with. It's staring at it all and trying to figure out whether to box it up or let it sit. My other break-up was not like this. My other break-up never had a real conclusion. We parted ways over e-mail as teenagers do. And I hated him. (Sorry J.) I did hate him.

I can't hate timberwolfblues. I can't. We both created this mess. We both let it spin out of control no matter what things I may have said over the phone to people who got me through this cold and dark night.

I don't hate him. I can't. He's got a little piece of my soul and heart. I wish him well. I hope I have the strength and the kindness to remain friends with him. I hope the feelings fade. I hope the memories drift until they are nothing but a haze that I can look at without weeping, and I will weep. I can cry like the heavens when I let myself feel. I've been numb recently. I hope that happiness is out there, and I can find it. Seize it with both hands and not let go. I hope. I wish.

I do not pray.

I'm not sure how to be single. I'm not sure how to meet people. I don't know what to do. He was my second boyfriend.