14 March 2013

I am struggling. I am torn. I have never felt so alone, so unsure of myself. I can only write this knowing that she will never see it. And that matters. It matters because she has already done the most courageous thing a person could do.
She didn't leave me because she was weak. She did it because she was strong enough to walk away, when it was clear to her that I am not the man she wants.
I, being me, could see how painful that decision had been, but she had the courage to tell me to my face. How could I not, seeing her bravery, her decency, how could I not do my best to make it as drama-free as possible?
All I want, all I've ever wanted is for that one person to love me, unconditionally. And I thought, I dared to believe that just maybe she was that one person. Now I know that it was the triumph of hope over expectation.
For the first time I understand the truth in that trite greeting card maxim:
"If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was."
I've done that and all I'm left with is sleeping in the centre of the bed with that fucking 'Clinton's moment' ringing in my ears.
I don't envy her being able to go out with friends and socialise and do whatever she wants. Not for a moment. I envy ALL those who are able to do that.
I am jealous of all the people with their carefree lives. Whatever millstones they think they have around their necks, I'd swap places with then in a heartbeat, just to have my freedom back, to taste the independence I worked so hard to achieve, never thinking that just when I thought I was winning, that all I was doing was running up a down escalator.