Just a Dream

Well, I was totally blindsided last night.

Antonio broke up with me. Over the phone. He just called and said I don't make him happy anymore. He no longer loves me.

I guess it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, but it hurts so much more than I expected it to. It's hard to believe he can throw away 13 months. I met his parents. He met mine and stayed with us in our home twice. He was not just my lover but my best friend. We spent all of our time together. We shared everything.

Did we have fights? Yeah. Did we disagree on a lot of things? Sure. I didn't think he didn't love me though, and he really did seem happy.

I feel a bit betrayed too, because he talked to his supervising professor, a professional counselor, and a priest about it, and they all advised him to break up with me. It makes me feel like shit the way apparently no one thought I was good enough for him. It really does.

I miss him so much. I only slept for an hour last night, and that was just because I took a double dose of Benadryl. "And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, steal me awhile from mine own company," or something like that. It's a struggle to not break down and text, call, message, email, or communicate in some way with him. I can't believe I'll never see him again, and if I do, it'll just be as two acquaintances.

What makes it all worse is that although this is arguably the worst week of my life so far, his life actually got better. He isn't suffering at all. He's free. He's happy. And I'm left wondering where I messed up.

It was so hard to get out of bed this morning. I was just laying there thinking about having to go through life without him. He always said he wanted to grow old with me, but that was just a sweet lie that a naive young girl believed. Silly me. I thought that a 25-year-old man would not go through the motions unless he were serious. So he was either toying with my emotions ("Why, look, you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me [as if I were a pipe.]") or he just said pretty things without understanding the impact they would have on me ("Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell.").

Every minute seems like an hour. Every hour, a day. I try to look forward into the future and find I don't have the strength to keep going. I just have to focus on getting through each minute, one by one, step by step.