If I allow my mind to be quiet.
For even just one minute.
I think about how I slipped out of the apartment at 6 am.
How he never even said goodbye.
Not a hug.
Not a kiss.
I have to believe he didn’t love me.
Because that’s not how to treat someone you love.
And if he did indeed love me.
I’m spectacularly fucked.
I am surrounded by friends and family, giving me support.
But it isn’t the same and I feel very lonely.
And its hard not to say “what if” it never happens again.
Our relationship wasn’t the best one.
But he was the best I’ve ever been treated. Believe it or not.
So maybe I shouldn’t have complained?
I hate this.