pathetically human

I've barely heard from him in a week, which, I think, is very telling.

Oh, he responds if I text him - with four or five letter responses even - but I text him. He's not contacted me since last Thursday night.

My hopeful self: he's busy at work!

My realistic self: he's been busy before and texted or called most days.

hs: he's using four or five letter words!

rs: he's being polite. He actually thinks you're a loser

hs: he's replying!

rs: but he's not contacting you either.

Then there's the (so! Much! Greater!) part of me that SO wants to NOT contact him, then that self gets reminded of the last time I gave space where I thought it was warranted. That idea meant the last two months happened, and those last two months with him have sucked, which is why we've ended up here, so I text him again despite cringing and feeling like an idiot for doing so.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I feel sick all the time.

I hate this.

So I texted him one last time this morning.

"Goodbye".

Which is (OH RATHER) dramatic and "hello, I'm fifteen!" but is also reflective of being awake at 2am, and 3am, and 4am AGAIN because this sucks so much.

I poured out my heart and I don't know where he wants to go with this, the direction of which is pretty fucking obvious anyway (please see; one week, barely heard from), so how dumb would it be to ask him "where do you want to go with this?" because, DUH, you know?

So I cut to the chase.

I've never dealt with a broken heart while raising a three year old. For anyone wondering, it's a lot harder than dealing with one while while childless.

Even I'VE never heard me carrying on like this and being and feeling so fucking fragile and vulnerable over love. I feel so dumb discussing love in relation to me because...well I guess it never APPLIES to me.

I've long practiced that I'm FINE with Not Loving, that I'm finer still with being Not Loved.

Which is a relic from my (tragic) childhood, I believe, and I guess I've stayed "above" this need for love because it hurt so much to NOT be loved.

So I should be grateful for this heartache because this whole experience kind of proves that I AM human, and that I AM much like everybody else.

I can't promise it's not going to shut me down even more firmly and determinedly though, because heartache is so aptly named. A broken heart, even more so.

On the one hand, I took a risk, which is a good, brave and courageous thing to do.

On the other, it blew up in my face, which makes being brave and courageous feel like a really dumb thing to be.