July 15th

Thursday, July 15, 2010 – Three days after break-up

I need to leave here,

should run away not look back

but my heart says stay.

I wasn't myself with B. I was nervous, reserved, scared. But then the worst that could happen did. He broke up with me, with no chance of getting back together. None. I asked.

After feeling alone and scared and not really wanting the life I had anymore nor thinking that anyone would ever be as great as B, I let go. It was done. I was done. I still love him, but I won't be the girl I've been this past year. I can't anymore. I won't let myself feel so intimidated by someone. I won't cry in bathrooms, I won't hide my feelings, I won't feel like everything is an effort to be someone I want to be. I am more than what I was being with him.

But I'm still with him, and I know I should leave. This isn't real, though it feels more real than ever. We aren't together. But in the minute to minute, day to day, we are. We are lovers, we are friends, we are doing well. By breaking up, we have in a way started to like each other more.

I need to leave. I'm at his parent's house, living a dream. We are in their eyes still together, still in love. It's not a hard lie to live. Momma bear does our laundry and cooks delicious meals that are filling up my soul. Papa bear laughs and exudes a warmth and sense of of fun and trouble that reminds me of why I fell in love with B. And B smiles at me, in a way that he hasn't for awhile.

I know it's not fair for me to be here, for me to be loving it and recharging and feeling so good. I am happy. But it's his home, his parents, his life – I should be on the streets in Belgrade, wandering around in this summer heat wave, feeling alone and confused and heartbroken. Feeling lost.

Returning to Miami and our apartment will be hard, and moving out will be harder. But not as hard as it was when I lived there with B and things were not well. No more tears and sleeping pills and emptiness inside and hating myself and walking on egg shells and trying to please. No more not feeling good enough for him, not feeling good enough for me. It's too exhausting. And there are too many things I love more than loneliness: bicycling like I'm a badass, laying on the beach, reading books and getting upset with celebrity gossip and reality tv, writing, shopping at costco, singing off-key and need I even mention wine and cheese?

Ah, but in the end, I still want B to want to be with me and me to want to be with him and for us to have fat, happy babies together that grow up to be Olympians in a revenue based team sport that they can go pro in. I'm hoping our time apart (however much time life dictates) will end up bringing us back together at the right moment. Maybe he'll be life-guarding on the beach and have to save me, and we realize we love each other after he grabs me in the water and our bodies slide together and I get some unnecessary mouth-to-mouth. Or maybe we'll be at a regatta somewhere and our eyes will lock and we'll know it's time. Or maybe it will be like Sex and the City when Carrie sees Aiden on the street in season 5 and he turns around and has a baby strapped to his belly, signaling that he moved on. Fuck. I'm hoping for drowning scenario uno.