Monday, April 11, 2011

and so you sailed away

I stood there, blinking up at him, feeling my world crashing down around me, and finding it strange that it was all happening in my bedroom. One of those moments when you look at someone and it strikes you as very odd that this is really happening... this is real life.

Those words, telling me that it was over. My tears, an unintentionally clever disguise telling him that I was wounded. There was something sad about the moment, no doubt. Sadness came in the form of something being over. But even stronger came the relief. The relieved feeling that flooded through me, lifting a weight off my shoulders that I hadn't even noticed I had acquired over the last eight and a half months.

And I told him I was sad. I told him the truth. But I didn't tell him that it was wrong. Because we both knew it was long overdue. No questions, no regrets, no what-ifs... we had run the course.

We can still be friends, he said.
And I smiled, a sympathetic smile, and gently told him that being friends is really hard.
I was right.

p.s. why is writing so much more fun at 3 in the morning?

4 comments:

  1. I feel the same way. Writing is more fun in the middle of the night.

    I'm going to miss your blog.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Madeline, now that you have all these creative dates to write about, The Real Bacholorette could make a lovely comeback :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. You're right Abi... I've been thinking about it, but I want to do it differently. I'll have to think about it some more.

    ReplyDelete

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