WTF. Just...WTF.
So, if you're sick of reading my relationship bitching, all you need to know is: Monday afternoon, I was mauled by my iguana. It was fucking nasty. I kinda thought I needed stitches (left index finger), but it's healing up okay. NOW ON TO THE BITCHING!
So, I broke up with him. I was like, "I can't take anymore" and I told him to bring me my stuff and his key to my apartment before he left for Michigan. And he did.
Okay, I broke up with him. Shouldn't I be happy? I hear, when you break up with someone, it's supposed to be like ... "Yeah, fuck off now, thanks."...wheras I am now entirely miserable. I don't sleep, I don't eat (except when my mom made me when I came down to my parents' house tonight, and that made me retch), and I'm up to smoking 2 packs a day. Yeah, I sure feel super.
And so yeah, I'm thinking, I maybe made a massive fucking mistake here. Was he perfect? No, sir. Were -- not all but-- most of my reasons for breaking up totally legit? Yes. But does any of that mean I don't still love him? Nope. Love him. Want to be with him.
So, now I'm at a crossroads. I could try to contact him and try to work it out or I could just give up. There's really not a good solution here. I'm not going to call him -- if I do at all, because every day I feel different about the subject -- until he's back from Michigan anyway, so that's like, next Monday at the earliest.
I just really don't know. Having hindsight lets me see how I helped fuck up our relationship, but I'm afraid if I try to work this out, I'll just blame everything on myself, and even though it was PARTLY my fault, he played a major, major role.
Plus, there's no guarantee he'd even talk to me at this point, or even if he was willing to talk to me, that he'd be willing to try again. And I dunno if I can deal with that rejection.
Plus, there's a whole dignity thing going on, where it's like.."You fucked up. I dumped you. Please, for the love of god, take me back and love me"? Not dignified.
I don't even know. I guess maybe if he misses me, he'll call me. And if he doesn't miss me enough to call me, then yeah, fuck it. But maybe he needs to hear an apology from me first. Or maybe he's really glad I bit the bullet and ended this. Or maybe he wishes I was dead. I don't fucking know.
OH, THE LAND OF NO GOOD ANSWERS.
If you're psychic, please, let me know how this turns out. THANKS. 'cause I just wanna be with him again, but I want it to be right. And I don't know if anyone can make that happen.
Edited To Add: Or, maybe I could just keep not-eating for the next 45 days, and drop fucking dead, and I won't have to make any decisions. That'll only be a litle more difficult than this shit now. OH, DRAMA.