Bit by Bit.

Dear Matt,


They say every day gets a little bit easier, the farther I get from our relationship; from us.  But that is absolutely not the case.  Another lie they tell broken hearted girls to make them believe everything will be ok.  Every day I get farther away from you, the harder it gets for me to actually make it through the day.  I do not get stronger and I do not get more independent.  I am just sad and continue to be sad.  I think about all the things we should be doing and I get even more sad.  I go on Facebook to check our account even though I stubbornly deleted you and I get even more sad.


Word to the wise: Facebook is not your friend, broken hearted girls.  You think checking up on him will make you feel better, that maybe glimpsing at how miserable he is will make you feel better about your own wallowing is a myth.  He is not miserable.  He will post smiling pictures of him at baseball games, probably with some new girl he is already seeing.  And then you are launched into the throes of sadness even more.  It's not worth it so don't do it.


Also, stay away from Twitter, Instagram and any other social networking site with which you want to stalk him.  It will only make you feel worse, even though I know that feels impossible at the moment.


I bit the bullet and texted him today about an event we had planned months ago that is coming up.  Bad idea.  I thought he might remember the good things.  I thought he might want to see me.  I thought wrong.  Not only was he skeptical of my text and my intentions, he was just mean.  Lesson learned.


The one interesting thing he did mention is that I need to stop hiding behind my phone, that if I have things to say I know where he is.  Good thing he doesn't know about this blog.  The thing is I don't know how to approach him.  I want more than anything to see him, to have him hold me in his arms and miss me gently.  But I am afraid that the coldness he is showing via text will translate into physical coldness and that I don't think I could handle that.


Torn into pieces never made some much sense.

Je t'aime,
E.