Every night I get to this point.
A blank email page open in front of me, the To: box filled in with his name.
And every night, I write an email. Some nights it's a forced casual tone, other nights, it's angry rantings. And at least a couple of times, it's been just plain pathetic.
Up until now, I had yet to do anything beyond save them to my draft box. However, tonight, I erased them all, because I just had this completely irrational fear that they would some how get sent out on accident. At the same time, I've also contemplated actually sending them but claiming that I'd pushed the wrong button and it was just all a whole big mess, and how embarassing, guess you have to talk to me now to at least straighten this all out...yadda, yadda.
But that's so playing the game, and I'm not pyscho enough to go there. Some lessons have been learned, thank you very much, Jon.
I hate that I am still so caught up in this whole thing. I need to get a life. Pronto.
I miss him, sure. I miss his friendship and his conversation.
But I think what I miss more is the idea of this relationship. The hope. The expectation. The excitement.
I was talking to my old piano teacher this afternoon about how fast time flies. I told her that I turn 24 in 2 months, and she commented she was married by that age. We laughed about it and she asked me if I even had anyone on the horizon. I smiled, and said, yes. And then I remembered. So I shook my head and said, well, actually, no. Not any more. But for a brief time, there was.
And I miss that.
But maybe it's good that it ended so quickly. The brief time that it was is obviously something I'm having a hard time getting over, and if this had gone on longer before it ended, I'm sure this part would have been worse.
I asked someone's advice last night on whether or not I should contact him. She was wise, indeed, and asked me to explain why I would want to. What was my purpose?
And if I'm honest with myself, it would be to see if he's changed his mind.
To see if he's handling this better than me.
To see if he regrets the decision he made.
To make him explain it to me just one more time.
So, even though she said I could call if I kept it short and just asked the specific questions I needed answers to, I don't think I'm going to do it. It just doesn't seem quite fair.
And it seems like it has the potential to prolong the suffering, so to speak. I don't really want answers to some of those questions, because then I'd have to live with that knowledge, one way or the other.
In the attempt to make myself less of an emotional deviant, I've tried to not shut down about this. To allow myself to be upset by it, to deal with it while it's happening and not pull my normal tricks of denial and avoidance. But I still haven't figured out where the line is between allowing myself to feel things and dwelling on things I can't change. I think maybe I've let this one run its course as much as I can. So, it's time to toughen up, shut down, and stop thinking about it all the time. I don't know if that's necessarily the "healthy" thing to do...but given where I am now, I've got to do something. My reaction, maybe even my over-reaction, to this is not something I am enjoying very much nor am I impressed by it. For trying so hard to be mature about things, I've definitely wallowed just a bit these past weeks.
So, here's to moving on. May it be swift and painless.