This isn’t the post I meant to write

This isn’t the post I wanted to come back with. I have about 5 planned, I just wanted to have time to take pictures for them, and then this happened. This bombshell.

Last night, my boyfriend broke up with me. He broke up with me 3 weeks after we’d started renting a house together, after almost 2 years together, after a million moments and memories that are frequently reminding me how empty I now feel. I am ripped in two, and broken, and betrayed. This was something I never saw coming, and that I’m not sure quite how to get through. Looking at his face as he told me he couldn’t give us another go, I just didn’t know the person standing in front of me anymore. And that was the scariest part. I know that I know him better than anyone, better than anything, and yet in that moment, I didn’t. I didn’t know why he was doing this. Because the guy I know, wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t give up after 2 weeks of hard times, 2 weeks of not being sure how he felt about me. 2 weeks out of over 150 of knowing each other.

I truly believe that there are ups and downs in all relationships. That there will be times when you’re not sure what you want, and maybe you don’t feel as strongly for your partner as you did before. Just like happiness or sadness or anger can dip and fade, surely so can love? But I know there’s a basis there, I truly believe that. But I can’t seem to convince him of that.

So he’s gone. And I am lost, empty, angry, distressed, and completely bewildered at what has happened to me. I was willing to work on me, and us, but I guess he wasn’t. And that hurts more than anything. That the thought of how good we have been and could be again. It’s been two weeks of kind of unhappiness, not 2 years. I know that we can come back from that, but I told him to leave if was ever unhappy, and I guess that he has.

Now I’m sitting, alone, in the house we rent together, surrounded by memories of us. Surrounded by things we have bought and built together, in a house we chose together, suddenly feeling that he stopped choosing me and I never realised. I don’t know if there’s someone else, I don’t really want to know. I don’t want to move back to my mum’s house, not because I don’t love her, but because for me that’s a massive step backwards. But that means I have to deal with the consequences of living here by myself, or trying to find someone else to live here. I don’t want to live with anyone else, I want to live with him, I want to be with him, but I feel guilty for feeling that way, because I feel like I’m betraying myself now. If he doesn’t want me, why should I want him?

But the boy I know does want me. The boy I know wanted this, and wanting this house, but now he doesn’t. All I’ve ever done is choose him, and I never for one second thought that he would stop choosing me.

I’m angry at myself, and I’m angry at him, and I’m angry at the situation. As soon as my eyes opened this morning it all hit me again, in one big wave, followed by constant hits to my stomach. I’m empty and lost and I have no direction. What makes it worse is that he is my best friend, he’s the one I talk to after bad days, and the one that holds me when I cry. And now I don’t even have my best friend.

But I believe firmly, and I will continue to believe that :

“Happiness does not come cheaply. If it did we’d all be smiling.” (One Tree Hill)

And to continue on the One Tree Hill level, that “Happiness is a journey, not a destination” and there will always be turns in the road. I just never saw you doing a U Turn on me. I thought we were on the same road, the same page, but I don’t know when it changed. I don’t know when you changed. You say that I’ve changed, but I thought we changed together. I’m so tired of being wrong.

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