I Really Wish I Weren't So in Love

Today is three days into my journey. I'm starting to see now that staying in this would continue to cause me a world of hurt and yet, I am not ready to give him up. Such is the strength of my love for him. But I am starting to see that he cares not about me. And part of me is starting to wonder if I should just start trying to leave this behind. I am afraid. Afraid of navigating this world without him. He is not only the man I love, he is also something I cling on to, and to me he symbolises hope; a hope that the childlike part of me wishes to believe in. That true love, or what seems like it will prevail in the end. That love, exists for me and will prevail. He is love to me. A part of me is afraid that giving him up is me giving up my last chance for love because somewhere inside I believe that I can do it no more. I can fall for no more men and have my heart broken all over again. And if this isn't going to turn out then there will be no more after this. And another part of me wants there to be no more after this because I love him and I want no other. So in a lot of ways, this feels like my shot at love and so I have needed with a desperation for this to work out. 

But every single time I remember what he said to me, it stings and I feel that sharp pain inside my chest. Every single time I remember what he wrote to me, it pains me and I want to turn away but I can't seem to. And every single time I remember what happened, it breaks my heart and turns my mind inside out. I have questioned the fairness of what happened for days and weeks and months. I have spent much tears crying over the questionable fairness of it. Because it hurt me to the core. It shaped and moulded my character in a way that I never wanted it to be and yet I still can't seem to get over my burning love for him. Even through all that anger and hurt.  It was to me, like a message from the world confirming every single fear that seemed to be lurking at the back of my mind about my worth to be loved. And if I wasn't questioning it then, it made me question it now. I didn't understand how it could be so that it could have gone so horribly wrong. How within a single day and night, my heart was broken many times over and trampled by a herd of horses. And how should it be fair?

Every single time I think about it, it winds me. It knocks me off balance and it turns my world and my logic and my reason and my mind inside out. It turns my faith inside out. And it turns my hope away. Far far away and despair comes in to take its place. They say that there are many sorrows in this world, and love is one of them. I do not want to feel guilty for feeling miserable over my broken heart. I do not want to feel like I am being ungrateful. I am extremely grateful but my broken heart is also very real. I want to spend my days curled up and crying over my broken heart. I want to spend hours without needing to worry about responsibilities, crying over him. I want to be free to express and feel my misery without having to lug it all around with me in a heavy sack over my back and having to explain and justify it away to everyone and to myself. I love him, he doesn't love me and now I am fucking sad about it! So what! I am nowhere near over him and I am still very dearly in love him. I really wish I weren't.