(no subject)
It was the hardest thing I had ever had to do, to leave her room tonight. To hear her sobs from across the apartment. From across two dainty walls and probably a blanket or two.
We had already broken up and were laying there in bed, each of us simply worn out from crying and heaving. I think we were both in a state of hazy denial and didn't want to say or do anything further. I laid there thinking about how loudly and openly we'd sobbed. About how we had both just wholly surrendered into each others' arms and wept. Wept for each other. Both of us, for each other. It's astonishing; I had made the decision to set her free out of pure altruism and full regard for what was best for her and all she could do was cry for me. Cry because she knew she'd hurt me. And she had. But it wasn't her fault, of course. She didn't do it on purpose. And despite the fact that BOTH of us had prayed for it to work - had prayed for things to be different or get better - we simply weren't right for each other. Not right now, at least.
I laid there and knew we had nothing else to say and nowhere else to go. I knew that we were still laying there because we both knew that the physical act of me leaving her room would seal the deal and make the decision real. Up to that point, we were still holding each other. Up to that point, we still were able to lean on and comfort each other. Up to that point, we still didn't believe or fully respect what was happening. It was at that point that I buried my face in her neck one last time to sob out an "I love you" and moved to unplug my cell-phone charger from her wall. It was at that point that we both cried harder than I ever knew us to be capable of.
I rushed for the door and tried my best to shut it smoothly as I slipped out, catching one last glimpse of her as the tall slim line of view through the door-frame was reduced to nothing. I knew I couldn't stand there, not even for a second, if I didn't want to be faced with the impulse to fling the door back open and run in to grab her. So I walked to my room and shut the door down to just a crack. Slumped against my bed, I listened to the tragic symphony of her vocal chords, now emitting sounds they should never have been prompted to. Should never have been capable of.
She doesn't want me to be hurt. I break up with her and she doesn't want me to be hurt. I hope that one day she realizes how special she is.
We had already broken up and were laying there in bed, each of us simply worn out from crying and heaving. I think we were both in a state of hazy denial and didn't want to say or do anything further. I laid there thinking about how loudly and openly we'd sobbed. About how we had both just wholly surrendered into each others' arms and wept. Wept for each other. Both of us, for each other. It's astonishing; I had made the decision to set her free out of pure altruism and full regard for what was best for her and all she could do was cry for me. Cry because she knew she'd hurt me. And she had. But it wasn't her fault, of course. She didn't do it on purpose. And despite the fact that BOTH of us had prayed for it to work - had prayed for things to be different or get better - we simply weren't right for each other. Not right now, at least.
I laid there and knew we had nothing else to say and nowhere else to go. I knew that we were still laying there because we both knew that the physical act of me leaving her room would seal the deal and make the decision real. Up to that point, we were still holding each other. Up to that point, we still were able to lean on and comfort each other. Up to that point, we still didn't believe or fully respect what was happening. It was at that point that I buried my face in her neck one last time to sob out an "I love you" and moved to unplug my cell-phone charger from her wall. It was at that point that we both cried harder than I ever knew us to be capable of.
I rushed for the door and tried my best to shut it smoothly as I slipped out, catching one last glimpse of her as the tall slim line of view through the door-frame was reduced to nothing. I knew I couldn't stand there, not even for a second, if I didn't want to be faced with the impulse to fling the door back open and run in to grab her. So I walked to my room and shut the door down to just a crack. Slumped against my bed, I listened to the tragic symphony of her vocal chords, now emitting sounds they should never have been prompted to. Should never have been capable of.
She doesn't want me to be hurt. I break up with her and she doesn't want me to be hurt. I hope that one day she realizes how special she is.