Seeing Morgan was wonderful today. We went to Casablanca in the gulch and got Americanos and hummus. It was so great to sit down and talk. I cried a little, and it felt so relieving. I told her how bad I missed him today, and that I was ashamed because I've made so much progress in getting "over it". I suppose one step forward and four steps back will even out somewhere down the line, or maybe eventually the backwards steps will decrease and I'll bound forward in a new direction. Today, was a fail.

I discussed with her the sadness of having someone take phenomenal care of you, then telling you to never speak to them again...and how it feels that our entire relationship is summed up in avoidance/the occasional glance/the avoidance of the occasional glance. This person, that I was so certain was my forever...shares with me now...one common thing-the avoidance of the occasional glance. At least we still have that in common. When Thomas leaves in May, I'm going to feel raw all over again. Most of the time, I pathetically feel like I'm in this dog and pony show. Make-up, hair, make-up, hair, clothing, make-up, hair...in preparation for this "moment" that I have in my head where he passes me and actually notices me...actually sees me...or maybe even misses me a little. And perhaps it's only because it's late and I am willing to admit how pathetic I am. But the truth is...I am. Nomatter how much I want to hate him, I love him. I love that I hate him and I hate him for not loving me. I hate him for not being sad over us, and I love him in my mind like he's still some kind of charming prince. There's this line in a Cold song:

"I can't hold on, this happens all the time-I still find my faith in you."

I can't wait for the day that I can stop lying to myself...I can't wait for the day that I actually don't love him anymore, and I actually don't have faith in him. I hate myself for the faith I've always had in Thomas Howard. It's like this wildfire inside of me that continues to burn...burn down even my own vineyards. At the expense of myself, I love him.

I am so angry about the lack of sympathy he has, I am enraged still, by some of the things he said. But overall, I still remember the good more than the bad. I wish I could be more like him. I wish I could remember only the junky things over the good. I wish I could make the worst of what we had. If I did-if I could stop loving him, the way he stopped loving me...all would feel so much better. But even then, I probably wouldn't take it. It'd be the option I'd pass up...just to love him a little bit longer. I think I always will. I always did. And even though, now, I don't feel like I ever really meant anything to him. He meant everything to me. And what we had was beautiful. Even the hard times. Days with him, were never bad. The fighting made me weary, but...he always made me happy. He was my best friend. But I have forced myself to adjust to the concept that I wasn't his. He's better now...without me. And I've adapted to that being okay. He just didn't want me. He won't be the first...he won't be the last. It just isn't so easy...because I loved him...even, if he never loved me back.

"This is a good sign, having a broken heart-it means we tried for something."

-Elizabeth Gilbert