I guess I give up on putting a filter or going in a specific direction with my writing. Initially I wanted it to be poetic and to flow smoothly, to try pruning away the self-pity and whining as much as possible, but right now I just need to get it out.
I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I am having genuine concerns that I am having a heart attack right now. Now I know what all the love songs mean about heartache. I am feeling all the symptoms.
I’m sitting on the couch rocking back and forth as he rummages through our things in the bedroom. He is humming and singing to himself as he snoops through all the drawers and packs what is his. It makes me feel sick.
I don’t know how to behave or interact with him anymore. It was so much easier at first because I was still in shock and I guess I felt like there was still a relationship.
How can we still be friends? This isn’t a conscious uncoupling. You broke my heart again. Yet you are so relaxed and easygoing around me and our friends like nothing happened.
So weird to come out of such a thick mental fog. As he packed today I had periods coming in and out of active consciousness. Hugest dissociative episode I’ve had in years. It lasted a few hours.
I had a friend and another partner come over and sit with me, they fed me vegan snacks and got me to watch crappy reality shows. I snapped out of it. I could laugh again. I feel lucky to be surrounded by so much love, even when it feels like my world is ending and the earth is falling away beneath my feet.
Edit: I have taken a second look at my florid writing and it makes me roll my eyes. What a fucking drama queen.