breaking down

I said I love you the first time in some cheap motel with zombie war scenes in the background.

I am the stuff romance is made of.

I I I I I I I I I I I I I I

I can’t think about leaving you without crying.  I like to pretend it’s okay, and I’m okay.

I meet someone who makes me feel good about us, and I have to leave him.  Story of my life right there.  Short bouts of happiness.

Maybe that’s all I am entitled to have.

People tell me I’m pre-empting this ending.  I know for a fact I am not.  Sure I can pretend and make-believe there is a future here.  How?  I see no possibility.

I’m leaving.  He’s leaving.  Sure, maybe we can push it through for the next couple of months.  But then what?  It doesn’t even matter if I come back or not.  He wouldn’t be here.  And what would I do there.  It’s not possible.

So when do I end it?

~ by crazypop on November 11, 2008.