This morning I started to write a moody entry about how I wasn’t actually happy. Or rather, that I was happy. But how I had also remembered that I was lonely. (Which we always are, but it’s a matter of being aware of it or not, I think.)
As the day went on, there was a burst of happiness for a few hours when the boy du jour came over, followed by a crash into moodiness and annoyance with him, which led to breaking up with him. In a totally childish way. To which he responded in a totally mature way. We ended on good terms, somehow, despite me being a total asshole. But khallas, we’re done.
I’m surprisingly not ok about it. Even though I was the one who did it.
I did it because we don’t have long term potential. On paper, it’s doomed. And after a month, you have to either cut your losses or make it work. And it would have been too much work to make it work. He’s young. I don’t speak Arabic…. Sure we have a lot of fun together. And sure we have the same values in life. And sure we’re probably both good for each other. But we’d face so many difficulties….
I think I’m just not ready, somehow, despite it almost being a full year since I broke up with the ex. I want to take this break up back though. Call him and be like, “I’m sorry. I’m stupid. And scared. And alone. Come back.”