I keep wanting to yell ‘bastard!!!!’ into my phone. Over and over again. Every black truck that drives by, every motorcycle that rips down my alley all I can think is fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
Yesterday NB walked out of my restaurant (and my life), for the last time. This was unbeknownst to me, until after my meeting I checked my phone and noticed he was no longer available to text/call/whatever. His last words were “I’m a big boy, I can walk myself out’. After our intense love story, that is how I’ll remember his goodbye. Nothing more, nothing less.
I’m obsessively checking my email, Instagram, WhatsApp and so on. I can’t help it. I saw his truck parked out front of the restaurant this morning and started to hyperventilate. I welled up. I tried to see the license plate. I then watched somebody who wasn’t him drive off in it.
I keep thinking he’s going to show up at my house and apologize for being so abrupt.
I keep thinking that this can’t be fucking happening.
At least I haven’t considered drinking, right? I know I have to sit with this. I know I can’t drown it out with Jameson. But fuck, would I ever love to be able to. I have yet to be able to accurately describe the pain I’m in. Make it stop. Somebody. Please. I’m already going through so much change, why does this all have to happen now? This is not fucking fair.
I guess I should congratulate him on making a decision. Finally. Except it wasn’t me. He didn’t choose me. It’s over. Fuck Fuck FUCK.
It’s time to move on. How the fuck am I supposed to do that?