writing as therapy, part 4

Nope this isn't a different blog you've found! Please read the Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 before you continue. 


It took me all of 48 hours before I was willing to see what happened. I didn't promise to try again, per say, but I did have faith in us. Just as I'd always had. Trouble is, I hadn't forgiven him. And no matter how much I wanted to, over the next two months, I began to realize that I was in no place to do so.


Having to admit that I couldn't is more difficult than it sounds. For as much as I wasn't ready to be with him then, I really wasn't ready to let go. I'm still not. 


It's been six months since last May when I told him that it wasn't going to work out. I said I'd gotten too comfortable with the luxury of selfishness and I wasn't willing to give it up again. He was understanding, for the most part, at least, but beneath our separate summers we both still hoped it wouldn't be it. Every few weeks we got into contact with each other again, sometimes we hung out, and both of us still felt that overwhelming connection. There's a reason for that, I thought. We weren't supposed to be over quite yet. As masochistic as these thoughts were, I couldn't ignore them, and I also couldn't admit them on the blog. I wanted to be a strong role model for the recently single. I didn't want to admit that I was making the same "mistake" that I had seen so many other girls make. I was afraid to say that I had honest-to-God hope when I probably should've been focusing on moving on. 


Trouble is, it was it. I very recently officially confirmed that in attempt at preserving my pride somehow. Not once were we simultaneously ready to give "us" another chance, and now there aren't any chances left.


I wish I could hate him. I really wish I could. All the time.


I didn't go on a road trip because of or in spite of him. I just went. I did it for me. I wanted to go. But now that it's over and done with, it's hard to have a positive outlook on the unexpected to come. Sure, I've been this process before; sure, I know that I will be in a better place by the time this detour is over... but that doesn't make it hurt any less. Even though he may have given up first, it was I who couldn't give us another chance. I feel like I missed out on my Prince Charming. And the fact that I have no idea where I should turn to professionally doesn't make it any easier.


I'm an unfairly critical person. Most of all towards myself. I can't help but think that I should have something figured out, some sort of plan, and without much of anything, dare I say I feel like I failed. It's as if I let myself down.


At this point, I inherently eat healthfully. In the past few weeks, I really have been working out consistently (it could very well be because I need the endorphins for the mood boost as well, but I don't care). However, being optimistic doesn't come as easy as it has in the past. I don't care if I sound like the tagline of a bad movie with this self-prescribed prescription of mine,  I just... I need to let go. I need to find my balanced, healthfully happy self again. 


Yes, to be continued, but only once more.