Well, it has happened again. The partner is leaving. I’m alone. It’s not being particularly easy, if fact the last 2 days have been spectacularly horrible. Random crying jags. Zombie like motions. Pitiful begging. This sucks.
Maybe I’ll go knit something. Does knitting cure heartbreak? Wailing at the gods isn’t working. Maybe some nice merino will take the edge off.
The partner is cleaning the house around my moping, pathetic self. I’m wandering about trying to remember how to live alone again.
Part of me is feeling an odd sense of relief. Weird? I tried so hard to get him to love me, and all I ever got to was like a whole lot. I deluded myself into a forever place, now I don’t know. Perhaps I’m meant to be alone? All I can say is 30 is not going to be the happy birthday I was wishing for. I was hoping for an end to the evil birthday curse that has trotted around after me for the 20’s. It’s a bit early this year, but who knows? There can always be more.
