When you’re in a relationship with someone, you’re building up your feelings and memories together. At least you should be. What that should create is a plethora of living, shared emotions together.

Not feat and doubt, resentment and regret.

By the end I was almost too scared to even text him, as I feared being ignored. The fear had eclipsed the love. When that happens, I think it’s safe to say it’s over. I gave him the option to come over and discuss it like a man, an option he didn’t take. I have had no contact with him since last Sunday.

And I doubt we ever shall again.

Do I block him, or is that childish? I had a strong desire to rip the beautiful notebook he gave me to shreds and send him the picture. Or simply go to his building and leave it outside his door. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to use it. How can I put pen to paper in it every day for months when every time I open the cover I’ll feel that magic time before Christmas. I’ll feel his shadow.

Happily work has been unbelievably hectic, yesterday encompassing a grand total of 14 hours. Two of the company’s most important bloggers were in town, so it was the job of the PR manager and I to take them for a working dinner, after organising live twitter chats, lunches meet n’ greets and all that other palava.

Something about me enjoys it.

The feeling of, at least for now, being married to the work. To hear the praise and thanks from my seniors for what I’ve done, to feel the rush of success and pride in what I do. Nothing helps to mend a broken heart than hard work. Nothing is worse for a broken heart than too much leisure time.

Sometimes a relationship needs physically taken apart. Sometimes there will be things which need divided or responsibilities to sort out. I have nothing of this, nothing of his. Just a beautiful notebook he gave me when I was still naive enough to believe he could love me. But a relationship will always need taken apart in our own minds, where so much of it happens anyway. Especially if you’re are stupid enough, like me, to let more of it take place on WhatsApp than in person (though show me a modern relationship which doesn’t?). Piece by piece we strip back every thought, every feeling, every memory, until there’s nothing left. Just residue. Just shadows and ghosts.

I know for a brief moment we shared something beautiful. I suppose, much as even that now seems like a perfidious lie, that that is the part I must carry forward into my next relationship, whatever and whoever that may be.

The moments of hurt come in the tiniest things, just like the moments of love did. It was the way he’d hold my hand or pull me onto his lap and massage my head. Now it’s when I see a picture of him on my laptop or my phone. When I see a poster on the tube of something we discussed doing together. Piece by piece, they sting and are stripped back, until they are gone.

I miss him, but it’s flown now. Even f he burst in this very moment and declared he loved me and wanted me back, I wouldn’t have him. He isn’t the sweet rugby stallion I thought he was, now he’s just the asshole who wasn’t even enough of a man to break up with me in person.

For all the hurt and unanswered questions, I know it’s time to just take it all apart.


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