Had an odd kind of day.

On the way to work, I thought once again about the things that I wrote for him, that he and she say she never saw, but she knew a lot about them. She said he talked about them, all the time. Enough so she felt like she’d seen them. I felt that ball in the pit of my stomach. The lump in my throat. My eyes moist as I held back tears.

He had asked me, when we talked 10 days ago, why he would show them to her. To make her jealous, I said. He, and later she, said he didn’t show her=. But he told her. What’s the difference? He told her what I wrote, that was personal, written in different times, just for him, for no one but him.  Things that came from the deep, intimate place in my soul that he owned at that time.  He told her enough that she knew details. She said she was sorry she told me that she’d seen them. I’m sorry that he told her they existed. I’m sorry that he treated them so callously. That he treated me, and what we had, so callously.

I’m sorry that he has so little to offer, or believes he has so little, that he has to use what I gave him from my heart and soul to try to draw her to him, probably trying to make her believe that if she didn’t want him, I would.

In the next breath he was asking to come here, and spend the night. Just to prove it to her, I suppose.

I said no. Then I told her he asked. Because I wanted her to know who he was. That what he tells her is a lie. It’s the best he can do, but it’s a lie.

He breaks my heart. Then I watch. He breaks hers. And in the end, his is broken most of all as he sits alone. At least, then, 10 days ago, he sat alone

I’ve not heard from him, not since I said, “I do love you. I do forgive you. A LONG time ago. Even she doesn’t understand how I can. But no, you are not welcome here. No I don’t want to see you. It’s easier to miss you than to see you. You came here last time she left you. I got burned. The scars are still healing. That won’t happen again.”

Maybe she’s forgiven him, again. Maybe she’s trying to forget what he did to her. I can’t, forget what he did to me. I can forgive him. I can’t forget. I can’t forget, because he keeps repeating it. Over and over again. I’m tired of it. Tired of saying no.. no.. no. You cannot hurt me again. I don’t invite you into my life again..

I wish he’d believe in himself, instead of sucking his self-esteem from the people who adored him.

I got over it, today. I had this moment, and got through it. It didn’t last long. About as long as it took to write this.

I talked to my son. I had a showing on my house. It wasn’t the right buyer but it was a good showing. Good feedback. Then I had my hair done tonight. I’m really happy with it. I turned off my AC and opened the windows. There’s a nice breeze blowing in through the windows. My flowers on the deck, and the grass, got some rain today. I had a good day at work. I had an email from a good friend.

I have a lot to be thankful for. A lot to be happy about. I believe he did the best he could. I also know I want some one who can do better.

And, at least I can. At least I CAN love that much. At least I can. I’m happy about that.

Love and light.