A piece of the story

We spent hours and hours talking into the night. We fell asleep with the phone clutched against our ears, waking up to realize we had fell asleep together.


He wrote me notes after I got in trouble. His small boyish cursive covered the page, scrawled with a shaking, guilty hand. The paper smelled like him. I kept them in a drawer and read them over and over for days.


.............




Everyone talks about the person who was dumped. Everyone feels their pain. Does nobody realize the pain with the person doing the dumping? I realize his pain during that time, just like I feel mine now. Whose pain is worse? Who gets the pity?


There should be someone to talk about the dumper. Change the stigmata associated with it. I wanted to be with him for so long and he wouldn't do it. When it was my turn to move on was I wrong to go? I knew how much it hurt him, but was I supposed to give it all up to be with one who rejected me so many times?


I left. But the pain is so bad it makes me shake. Its his pain. Knowing he is hurting kills me. Add that to my pain and you've created something awful. I miss him more now...