The Power of Mourning

I do not like the power that he seems to have over me but I suppose it comes with the territory of mourning a loss. There is an emptiness, not just because he's not here but because he has been so nasty to me that I feel as if something has been torn off my body. When I examine what I've said or done to provoke his ire in this way, all I can think is how who I am must push his insecurities too far.

But he knew this about me from the start. So why did he take this so far with me?

My opinion is two-fold and is aimed at both of us. One - I think we were both surprised to find that the adults we've grown into are intelligent, interesting, caring people. I think there is a genuine fondness for each other at the root of it and, in spite of weirdness, a desire to be friends, to know each other more. 
But then there's two - and this is bigger than all of it -  we were so damn curious about each other. All those years as preteens and teenagers, wondering, fantasizing....that's powerful and dangerous stuff! Worse yet, if I ask myself if it was worth it, I have to answer YES, pain and all, it was worth knowing him, experiencing him. And making love to him was beyond what I could have ever imagined.....

What's unfortunate is that I cannot stop thinking about him, cannot stop rewinding and trying to fix things, something I shouldn't have said or whatever. I realize that nothing I could do would have changed this and that he is just powerfully broken. But it doesn't stop me from feeling this loss. Nor am I suddenly un-attracted to him. In fact, that aspect is almost worse knowing that it will never happen again. I feel bipolar in my approach to getting over this; one minute I'm UP, the next I'm way, way DOWN. Re-reading an email he sent me earlier just pushed me off a cliff again. I'm not sure why I felt compelled to re-read it other than to try to convince myself that it really is over; but it falls so firmly under the banner of HE WHO DOTH PROTEST TOO MUCH as he tells me "I could care less who you fuck" when I know damn well that that is one of his major problems.

Not that ANY of this matters. It's just the stuff that goes round and round in my head as I try to move on. I've reached a point where I'm at about 50/50, as in about 50% of the time I can think about other stuff but the other 50% I feel like shit over this whole thing.

Oh yeah, and there's also a percentage of that percentage that I spend just remembering being in his bed, in his arms, thinking about his amazing body and how he used it to make love to me. There was something so much more than physical going on and the juxtaposition of that against how he is acting now HURTS. It just hurts so much.

I know I'll get over this eventually, that it takes time. That's why I have a blog, to help me get it out of my system. Blog world is the beneficiary of my repulsive underbelly, all the anger, fear, sadness, lust, everything that we don't show to people in our daily lives can come out here. What would I do without being able to write?