In which I reflect...

I've only ever been through one breakup before. And that was me calling someone who cared about me (which I didn't believe at the time) and telling them I couldn't be with them anymore, and that it was over. It was a short, cold conversation. I felt terrible. Whether he liked me, or loved me, I knew it would be surprising and hurtful, but I didn't know any other way to let myself feel happy again. It wasn't easy on me, making that decision.

So, now that I find myself here on the other end, after hearing similar words come out of the mouth of someone I deeply care for, I understand.

I came home last night and he told me he didn't love me anymore. Simple. There was no future for us, he had given up, he didn't want to try anymore. I couldn't help but start looking into myself, figuring out what I'd done, why I wasn't worth some effort. But I realized it was the best thing for us. I've been weepy and all over the place, emotionally, since then. However, it needed to happen. We couldn't go on, fighting and making up, and losing trust and trying to rebuild. It gets to the point where even the starting point is ruined. We got there.

I still dig him. I love him. We had so much fun together. But I want to be his friend, and I want to be special to him, but I don't want to be jealous, and I don't want to want him. I want to be over it and find someone who's better for me, and I want him to do the same.

I'll admit, though... I want to do it first.