Naomi (demeanour) wrote,

Letting go...

It's been a funny old day. I crawled out of bed after eight this morning and stumbled around my flat dressing, drinking coffee and smoking the inevitable cigarette. I arrived at the office a little after nine and got straight down to work. Lunchtime arrived pretty quickly and I skipped down the stairs, rang Lesley on my mobile and had a lively conversation about people we encounter sometimes. It makes me laugh so much that people purporting to know what they are, what they want merely masquerade and are something entirely different.

When J first spoke to me he said he was looking for a 24/7 relationship. If he'd told me he was looking for a quick, albeit intensive, tangle I'd have not have met him. I can only blame myself really, the signs were there to see in some ways, and yes, I'll admit I deluded myself and that my dazzled eyes refused to see. I'm angry and hurt all the same. He knew how I feel about deceit. Ok, so he told me no lies, but he omitted to tell me how he screwed around all the time he was with the supposed love of his life. He knew what G had done. Ok, so I didn't go into all the sordid details, but he knew enough from what I'd told him that G had deceived me and how it had left me feeling crushed. I'd told him that I didn't know if I could face that sort of pain again. And I fooled myself that everything was going to be all right between us.

It wasn't. It isn't. Even now, he persists in saying things like, "I'm not always here" when I know he's just ignoring me. And as for that malarky about being friends! Well, it just goes to show we all have different definitions of friendship. Still, at least he's not haunting my dreams every night now. Ok, he's there most nights, but not every single night which means just occasionally I sleep. I'll not say it's undisturbed, it's not. But he's not looming so large, which is a blessed relief.

I still miss him. You'd think that as time moves on it would get easier but it doesn't. It's not getting worse, but it's not fading, the sepia tint hasn't crept around the edges yet. And I still find myself crying unexpectedly, it's not raging sobs, more a realisation that my face is wet from the tears.
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