• Moving On

    by  • February 28, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Sorry • 0 Comments

    T-
    So it’s been a week or two since I broke your heart. I shattered it. tossed it out the ground and turned away from you, you broke into a million pieces and all I could do was turn away. Wee had been together five whole years, and I had promised you everything, my life, my world, my future, and my love. But that was not for me to give, not with my head anyways. My heart didn’t want to go, at least not all the way. I loved you so much. Just, I wasn’t in love with you. I couldn’t do it anymore. You felt like a close brother. Someone I would confide in, and talk and laugh with, someone I could completely see myself spending my whole entire life with. But the problem is, you go to school so far away, I see you maybe every three or four weeks, then maybe a couple times over each break and then a little over summer. If maybe you were here, at school with me, I would have been able to keep myself convinced I was in love with you. Maybe then I would have been swept away. But you have all these plans, and this life, and you want to do things, and then you try to weave me into your future, but see, I am that one stubborn strand that doesn’t want to fit. Maybe I am not ready to settle down once I graduate. Maybe I don’t want to go to grad school while you work here with me. I got too far over my head and didn’t see it. Didn’t notice my life getting twirled and spun into yours, making a potentially beautiful weave. But What about me? My individuality? My desire to travel, and live in other places for years at a time. What if I don’t actually want kids? Oh T. I shattered you. I saw you fall apart. But I had to pretend so hard enough to almost convince myself I didn’t care that I was hurting you. That it was killing you. And now even only a week or two later I am moving on. I am not sad, I believe we had a beautiful relationship and a wonderful time together. but that 16 year old J can’t control my life, yes she picked you, but now I have to pick me. I hope that one day you might forgive me, and I hope that one day you move on. I know you didn’t expect it, or deserve it, you are an amazingly wonderful beautiful person. And I am so sorry. But I know I was right. I have to move on. I have to be me.
    I do love you.
    -j

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