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Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
But remember when it did? ‘Cuz it came knocking at my door…
There he is in a cell phone video on his new Muay Thai training Instagram account he followed me with, doing his kicks outside my old writing room. A slow boil of rage emerges as a wave of sadness threatens to crash. “How DARE he film this outside… his spare room at his house.” Sadness wave crashes, rage boils over, tears burst from my eyes.
It’s break-up day all over again. It’s “get out of my house” day all over again. Only, it was never “get out of my house.” I just knew I couldn’t stay, and I didn’t, not one moment longer than I had to.
I can’t believe I took a shower after that talk. I was in shock, even though I saw this coming, had SEEN this coming for months. I guess I needed to try and wash all of the “I don’t have ‘I’m in love with you’ feelings anymore” off of me. Though, like Lady Macbeth, they’re still there.
My only regret is not pulling the plug myself. By which I mean, my only regret is ignoring my gut and not leaving when it was telling me to months earlier.
When we had that conversation and he went to bed and left me alone in the living room with nothing but my thoughts and an open end. And my gut said two things. “Pack a bag and leave tonight” and “He doesn’t want to be with…
