I cried much of the night. The finality and resounding emptiness that was this amazing relationship crashed around me. I thought about how his lips were hers, not mine. How that boyish grin would be hers to wiggle out of him, not mine. How there’s a chance they’ll be far happier than we ever were – and we had been so happy, once.
I relived the night I ended us. The words, the tears, the regret, the heartache.
I knew this would happen. (Didn’t I?) We’ve both been dating-ish. My dating has been half-assed. I
don’t didn’t want to move forward. I wanted to believe that he’d want me back. I wanted to believe that he would always be mine.
So, per usual when I’m shattered, I’m looking for jobs elsewhere. Amarillo, Seattle, Mobile… anywhere but here. Anywhere far from here.
I will apply for the jobs knowing that I probably won’t be interviewed for the positions because there are so many other people who are much more qualified. I know that if I do get an interview, chances are that there will still be higher qualified candidates being interviewed.
Do I really want to leave?
RIght now, yes. I have nothing holding me here. But I don’t *want* to run away. Where will that get me? I’d be truly alone if I moved across the country. Here I do have some friends. I do have my ex, who is very insistent that we’ll always be friends, no matter where life takes us.