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10:25am 04/02/2017
 
 
Who do you say I am?
Just wondering.

Mary and I met here, 6+ years ago, and she left me two weeks ago, after 6 years of back and forth distance. No matter how insecure and afraid I always was, the entire time, I thought we'd work through it all and be together forever. No matter how much I feared otherwise, every day, I still hung on to that belief, that if two people love each other and don't give up, it will work out.

Two weeks of one foot in front of the other, grieving, waiting for the pain to diminish, trying to keep myself from obsessing over thoughts of her being intimate with others that send feelings of death to the pit of my stomach and bottom of my feet, hiding all the objects that remind me of her, trying to make it through each work day without hitting a wall I can't remove myself from, trying not to think about all the places I'll never be able to go again because it would hurt too much... And there I go again, thinking of her with someone else. She used to say that, if not for me, she'd have been alone her whole life, and that if she wasn't with me, she wouldn't be with anyone. I always knew none of that was true.

Time heals. I don't like time to go by quickly, but I'm trying to enjoy the speed of it now, because time heals. The more quickly time passes, the more quickly I'll heal.

I thought someday I'd come on here and say how grateful I was that we met on Livejournal, and that we were now finally married and together, happily ever after, never to part. But over the years I went from soulmate, lifepartner, fiance, back down to simply "boyfriend," feeling more like just the friend part, sometimes not even that. She still wears the rings I gave her, not because they symbolize our union, but simply because they're pretty. The last time she left here, I felt she'd never return. The last time I left there, I cried the entire taxi ride to the airport, thinking "I can't do this anymore; I have to be with her now," but I think I knew, deep down, that that was the end.

I thought when she finally got a job, that would begin the countdown, and we'd finally be together. Instead, getting a job seemed to put the nail in the coffin. She left me, yet she said she felt like she didn't leave me. She said it wasn't about anyone else, but if she can leave me and think she's not leaving me, then it can be about no one else and still be motivated by wanting to be with someone else.

So I bought a robot vacuum because I hate vacuuming and because both the vacuums remind me so much of her (she used them all the time); I bought a new washing machine because mine was 30 years old and dead (she had been telling me I should get a new one for 5 years, but I didn't see the point in buying one if I was going to move to England). I try each day to put the pieces of my life back together, even if the only step I take is getting through the work day, or forgetting for even a few seconds that I'm not okay.

Someday I will be able to forget for long enough that I'm not okay, and then I'll be okay.

At the moment, I can't even manage to get out my guitars, because each one reminds me so much of her, and so much of all the songs I wrote about her.
 
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