Fewer Tears

I'm having a hard time with the fact that I'm crying less over the past few days. Before, I could say very easily that I haven't gone a single day w/out at least one good breakdown, sometimes more. But yesterday I barely cried. I had one moment where I started to and then it was gone very quickly.

I don't know why this is bothering me. I guess because I feel like moving past this means I've forgotten or that I'm over it or that I'm letting go or even that I don't love him anymore...but I know that none of that is true. I feel like I should still be more upset that I am even though I also feel like it's a little ridiculous how long this has gone on.

I still just have so many things to say to him. I'm basically going to tell him everything I didn't get to say during the breakup conversation because I was too caught off guard. I was completely blindsided so I had very little to say to any of what he said.

Sometimes I look back and wonder why I didn't fight more, why I didn't ask for more time to work on the things we struggled with. The thing is, I don't believe that ANY of the reasons he gave me for ending things were things you break up over. They're things that EVERY couple deals with at some point, they just came up really fast for us because our relationship progressed very fast. They weren't deal-breaker type issues. It all stemmed from lack of communication, assumptions, pretending to be mind-readers and expecting the other to be one as well. It's all stuff that I can now look back at and see exactly what was wrong...and maybe now we could fix it.

I saw him Saturday night with a group of friends. We got along just fine, it wasn't weird or awkward. But when I got home, that was a different story. I finally got my things back from his apartment, my pillow being one of those things. As I'm pulling it out of the bag I remember him telling me once that he liked having it there because he snuggled with it. I completely lost it at that moment and just sat there on the floor, clutching the pillow, and cried my heart out. I pressed my face to it, hoping for some lingering scent to remind me of him, but there was nothing. I just held it tight for a while, thinking that holding something he'd once snuggled with was the closest thing I was going to get to holding him again. It tore me up all over again.

So, no, I don't cry as much. I think there's actually somewhat of an explanation for that, but that's for another post. But it doesn't mean that I've forgotten. It doesn't mean that my heart has stopped hurting, that I don't miss him anymore, or that I don't still love him. Because I do. And I'm not sure I'll ever completely stop.