Shit.

I will publish this someday. Someday when I'm feeling better and this really is something I can look back on and be OK about, I'll hit the button, and this post will take its place among the others, as if it had always been there. For tonight though, I'm going to write it and save it, and go crawl under the covers for a while.

I remember reading somewhere--I don't know where-- about love and about breakups and how sometimes they can big noisy and fiery and sometimes they can be cold and terrible or easy and quick and about how sometimes you just hold each other for a really long time and cry until it's time to go. I'd had all but the last kind, until tonight. We talked for a long time, agreeing that as much as we wanted them to be, things just weren't right. We listened and didn't yell or get upset or accuse. Our conversations wound around themselves until eventually, inevitably, we agreed that we were stuck in a place we didn't want to be and there was only one way out. Then we held on to one another some more, and we cried and I realized that, as well as it had gone, which is to say, as well as this sort of thing possibly could go, when she left, it was going to break my fucking heart. So we kept on holding, and crying a little and talking about what was next. Then she left, and it did.