Losing my mind

He’s back.

After the heart break – after his leaving me for her, he’s back.

Back peeking through my window despite pretending that we’re talking from worlds apart.  Because he’s not “technically” broken up. And we’re all about technicalities, gentle reader.

In Inverloch, he asks me how to break up with her.  He tells me of the madness that is her life – that is her approach to parenting and child rearing and sex and all of the intimate details.  I bite my lip, my tongue and I don’t breathe or hope that this is the next part.  Instead I send him images of myself, bound with rope and hope that he understands the metaphor.  Sometimes he’s fairly cluey.  Other times, I despair.

Instead, he sends me song lyrics – so I send him Sondheim and bid him goodnight.  Who can’t be moved by Jeremy Jordan.

My heart hurts.

I didn’t think I loved.  Or cared.  But I did and I do.  But shhhhhhh, all is silence. Because the girl who speaks her needs – who speaks her truth gets shut down and shut up.

I am just too damned good as a counsellor – too good at putting people together and being the support.

 

 

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