I remember the day in a brewery you glanced at your hand and said with surprise, “Look, the indentation from my ring is gone,” and I thought finally, because I had been waiting for that to go away.

That fucking thing, that fucking ring, was the thing that hurt me most. That symbol of a broken promise still lingering on your skin longer after the pressure was off.

What happens after I find out you put it back on because you miss her, that life, that ring? My heart breaks and we break, and there’s no surprise in … Read the rest

Interesting choice, deciding after all this time that maybe you’d rather be alone. This is fine, I tell myself. I’m tired of treading water with you. I’ve been the most patient person the world’s ever seen, when I make excuses for why, after all this time, you won’t marry me. Nothing to see here, I think, as other couples walk past us in restaurants. When do we go out that we don’t spend just a little bit of time resenting each other? We can barely dine in public without making a scene. This isn’t fine, I tell myself now. … Read the rest

the end of love comes slowly like the cold breeze from the window, creeping up until you find yourself frozen. stuck. and it hurts more than usual because you’ve had that love for years and years, but if you ignore someone long enough, they stop caring about wanting to be seen by you. they won’t care if you see them anymore. they’ll want someone else to look and be enthralled, like you once were, remember? if you could construct a house in your mind, a restoration of the place you felt most loved and happy in this life, the house … Read the rest

Touching you was once an afterthought, it just came as naturally as breathing. If you were within reach, I felt the urge to reach for you. I wanted to stretch out my arm so my finger could have a chance to touch your skin, your sleeve, your back as you walk away. It’s been a slow change, this horizontal move away from me. You’re still here but inching further away. Your hugs don’t last as long, or your cuddles. Your kisses aren’t as long and passionate. You won’t hold me every day like you used to. Where are you going? … Read the rest

Today I messed around with my social media accounts so everything matches with the same profile picture and name – except for this domain, of course, but how could I not and wouldn’t you?

I’m forty-three fucking years old.

I go to therapy every week in part to hear my therapist tell me over and over again:

The only thing you can control is how you react to things.

I can’t control how other people react to things, I can’t control what they think about me, I can only control how I react or respond to things that happen to … Read the rest