Two Months of My Life

Thus ends the saga.
I finally pushed it too far...and now I've lost him.

The pain I am now feeling is different and the same all at the same time.
It's like I was broken a little and then I was set to rights only to break myself a little again.
Only now the bruise is deeper and the throb more persistent.

I hate what I've done.
I do not hate myself. I am smarter than that.

But I do hate how I have made this whole drama to play out in such obvious and predictable explosion. I should have known.
Had I only paid more attention to the overall than the now, now, now.
But alas, that's the fall of one who plays too hard at something only meant to be done in tandem with another.

Love cannot occur alone.
It is meant to be an exercise of unity.
Not always untrying of sanity.

I've fallen, fallen, and fallen again.

Only now will I be able to rise from the little puddle of Noah I let my self-serving sympathy melt my heart into forming.

This is the beginning of something uncomfortable in its newness but necessary in its existence.

I hate heartache.
I genuinely hate it.

It's a hungry pain that makes me sick.
And to think my own actions precipitated this dull pressure.

I'm disgusted with the whole thing.