I picked a fight

I picked a fight with Mr. Eight, and I did it in a way to where he thinks he did something wrong and that it’s all his fault. This is my own self-sabotage. But it had to be this way. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t tell him, "Hey, look, I like you but I’m still in love with my ex. I think you’re my rebound and it’s not fair to you." I can’t do that because he likes me so much that he would say it wasn’t true and that I’m just scared. He would change the facts for his own sake. So I told him it’s best we don’t talk anymore. I can tell by the way he paused that he was waiting for me to take it all back, but I didn’t.

So that is that.

I can’t believe it’s been over three months now and I still feel like this. I mean, I don’t feel like this all day, everyday. But every once in a while, during the quiet times of the day, I am filled with an incredible despair that temporarily suffocates me. And it leaves me to wonder if I’ll ever be carefree again.