I have had many boyfriends, but only 2 that I ever truly loved with all my heart. My last relationship lasted 6 years, and we were still sort of loosely 'together' thereafter; although we did many things separately, I still depended on him quite a bit and I think he liked being depended upon.
One of my many reasons for going far far away for some time was to re-assess my relationship with him, to see if I want to give it another try or to forget him once and for all.
I came home to find him more vigorous and diligent, venturing into all sorts of extra curricular activities of the business kind that would, and has, given him a more stable income than what he used to earn. And it was clear to me that I was no longer a part of his life. I can't help but think that in all those years when he was complacent despite me pushing him to do better, I was nevertheless there standing by him, and now that he is turning his life around for the better, he will probably share that better life with some other girl who will get to enjoy the fruits of his labour.
But such is life. No, no. Such is MY bloody life.
My friends, who I have no doubts have only the best intentions (but still appear to me to be wannabe psychologists) say this is a good thing and now I can finally move on. Externally, this is the best time for him to be out of my life because I am feeling very independent now; after travelling alone for 3 months I feel as if there is nothing I can't do on my own.
But internally, for me to move on it was never about how he felt, it has always been about how I feel. And I still love him. I think I always will. And how, pray tell, do I move on feeling the way I do?
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