E and I finally called it quits over Labor Day Weekend. The worst part is moving out. Having to pack away our lives that we created together into boxes. At one point, he came into the bathroom while I was crying on the floor and said, "This is not what I want." But I thought about all the things, issues, problems we had been having…like a flashback and didn’t respond. Why didn’t I say something?
Now I am packing box after box while he sits there and watches me. He sits on the couch doing work. Does he care? He has to! Right? He has to be hurting like I am. Doesn’t he? We have spent the past three years together. Why doesn’t he tell me to stop packing? Why doesn’t he come over to me and hold me and tell me this is not what he wants? Why? Why? Why?
Then on the other hand, this is what I am thinking: I am done dealing with him being selfish, being drunk, being irresponsible, being consumed by nothing but work, his carelessness, him being heartless. I am tired of the sleepless nights, of sleeping on the couch, of him not being around, of…..
So I will keep on packing our lives into neat, organized boxes like it doesn’t phase me. I am dying! This hurts so bad! I have never felt like this before with a breakup. Usually, I am fine within a few days. I bounce right back. What is it that makes this one so different? I just want to crawl into our bed and cry and have him come in and hold me like he used to.
I haven’t moved out yet and I miss him already!