Hurt
It was a lot harder than I had expected. It still is. There were a lot of tears, more from me than from him, and mutual accusations and apologies and expressions of regret. He expressed his love. I didn't know what to say in response, and so I said nothing.
Would it have made a difference if he'd come to London to see me after I returned from France? Would it have mattered if he'd never gone back to France for as long as I did? Would it have been decisive if I'd got a job in London and not sunk in to a depressive state which partly drove him away? What if I had told him what I had in mind - that it would have been nice if he'd come to The Hague with me for the first few days before I started work - instead of telling him that I thought he should make full use of his free time and do what he wanted?
I thought I would be relieved when I finally ended it. I thought I wouldn't be significantly affected because I'd stopped missing him, stopped wanting him, in the two, three weeks leading up to this weekend. But when he asked me if I was sure that I didn't want him in my life anymore, I felt a moment's hesitation that I covered up with a purely logic-driven 'yeah'.
On the one hand: I don't see how things will get better because we would be long-distance indefinitely, seeing as I have no idea where I'm going to be after August; and if I could lose a significant amount of my feelings for him after a few weeks, such that he knew something was wrong 10 seconds after seeing me, what about four months? What ultimately clinched it for me was that seeing him brought back none of the old feelings. I didn't feel especially happy to see him. I don't know what I felt - doubt, uncertainty, resignation? I don't know.
On the other hand: It doesn't feel right. I care about him a lot and to some extent, I think a part of me still loves him. It just feels so different, and I don't want to be that girl that yanks someone around, that girl that constantly flip-flops on a relationship, who hangs on to someone on the off-chance that she'd one day feel completely in love again. It's not fair to him; he deserves someone who can love him the way that he loves her.
And yet...I wish I could take it back. And yet...the only reason I haven't is that I'm not sure if I can be as committed as he is, as I ought to be - as he deserves.
This is killing me.
Would it have made a difference if he'd come to London to see me after I returned from France? Would it have mattered if he'd never gone back to France for as long as I did? Would it have been decisive if I'd got a job in London and not sunk in to a depressive state which partly drove him away? What if I had told him what I had in mind - that it would have been nice if he'd come to The Hague with me for the first few days before I started work - instead of telling him that I thought he should make full use of his free time and do what he wanted?
I thought I would be relieved when I finally ended it. I thought I wouldn't be significantly affected because I'd stopped missing him, stopped wanting him, in the two, three weeks leading up to this weekend. But when he asked me if I was sure that I didn't want him in my life anymore, I felt a moment's hesitation that I covered up with a purely logic-driven 'yeah'.
On the one hand: I don't see how things will get better because we would be long-distance indefinitely, seeing as I have no idea where I'm going to be after August; and if I could lose a significant amount of my feelings for him after a few weeks, such that he knew something was wrong 10 seconds after seeing me, what about four months? What ultimately clinched it for me was that seeing him brought back none of the old feelings. I didn't feel especially happy to see him. I don't know what I felt - doubt, uncertainty, resignation? I don't know.
On the other hand: It doesn't feel right. I care about him a lot and to some extent, I think a part of me still loves him. It just feels so different, and I don't want to be that girl that yanks someone around, that girl that constantly flip-flops on a relationship, who hangs on to someone on the off-chance that she'd one day feel completely in love again. It's not fair to him; he deserves someone who can love him the way that he loves her.
And yet...I wish I could take it back. And yet...the only reason I haven't is that I'm not sure if I can be as committed as he is, as I ought to be - as he deserves.
This is killing me.