I haven’t cried. Am I supposed to cry? I don’t really feel like it. But that’s what I usually do. So why haven’t I cried yet?
I’m shocked by my own indifference. Or, is this indifference? Or is everything exactly the same as before, so why should staying the course be marked as indifference. This is just me inside the ceaselessness of my reality. Sure, I miss his company, but it’s not searing or painful. I’m enjoying myself more these days, and when I’m ready to have company again every day, I’ll have it. I’m not worried about that.
Nothing about this is painful. It’s just…how it is. I don’t really mind. It’s not that I’m callous, it’s more that I’m experienced in the ever changing circumstances of my life, so things like this no longer shock me. I’m not jarred. I’m not thrown off balance. I’m just here, flowing with the go. Here today, gone tomorrow, or gone today, here tomorrow. Either way, I’ll continue plodding through life, having a generally good time, with or without him.
It’s so pleasantly mutual, too! Just magically, one day, “We’re not fucking anymore.”
We didn’t miss a beat. We just split in half and kept on moving. It’s so seamless that I almost feel suspicious. Sure, I can get lost in a maze of, “Did we actually even love each other?” But, eh, I know there’s no point in that. Sure, we loved each other. We clearly love each other enough to not ruin the other person’s day over it. In fact, there’s genuinely no love lost. It’s unreal! There was no fizzle, no pop, no overwhelming display of emotion. Nature just ran its course on our relationship, and there we go, off into the distance, separately, but not one bit worse for the wear.