Something died today, and part of that something is hope. While this little demise makes things more definitive for me at least, it freshens the grief and deepens the hurt.
I'm so intensely disappointed in him. I'd always understood his faults and accepted that that was who he is. Even if I didn't like them, I could live with them and support him where I could. But I never imagined the impact of those faults would extend to our relationship, tearing it to shreds. And the worst thing is, it could have been so much worse if I hadn't caught it when I did.
And now, I'm alone with my grief and the pieces of my life. I will always have the dear friends who've been so wonderful in this terrible time, but the journey to healing is mine alone.
At least I'm strong and I'll get over this. It's good to know that I'm no longer likely to walk the destructive path of my earlier years. Betrayal and heartbreak will no longer send me down that spiral and I now know how to remain sensible and practical.
But fuck, it hurts. After all, a part of me has died.
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