Journal Entry #8

Dear World,

I’m mourning. We were supposed to get married next week. That was the deal we made, the plan we’d been working towards from 6 months into our relationship until it all collapsed around us. Our fifth year anniversary as a couple was supposed to be spend making it legal. We were supposed to be trying for a baby. Instead I’m spending the week packing my stuff, relocating and unpacking a new chapter of my life. And eventhough it was my idea to break up, eventhough I’ve had 8 months worth of time to get used to the idea of leaving I’m mourning. I’m crying and I can’t seem to find the point in all of this.

I’ve never shied away from my feelings, and I thouroughly believe that if you are going to be doing something you need to put your all in it. I don’t halfass important things. So when I love I love with all my heart, and I loved him. I do still. And I know I’m not madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with him anymore, but he is my best friend, and he has been my whole support system for the past 5 years. So I still mourn. I mourn the love we lost, the love that turned into a friendship I appreciate with all my heart, I mourn the kids we would have had, the future we talked about and conjured for ourselves through countless of talks over the years. I mourn for the unconditional support I’ve lost with him and our relationship.

I also fear. I fear the unknown. I’m afraid of the uncertainty my future suddenly holds. I’m afraid of being alone. I’m afraid of ending up alone, because if I couldn’t make it work with him, my best friend, then I don’t see it happening with anyone else. I’m afraid that I never get to experience being a mom. That I never get to be a bride. I’m absolutely irrevocably terrified that I’ll never experience being happy. 

xx El

Journal Entry #2

Dear world,
So journal entry number 2, huh?

A couple of months back I broke up with my boyfriend of five years, and I didn’t shed a single tear. Don’t get me wrong: I love the guy, he is the most amazing man I have ever met, my best friend without a doubt. But he wasn’t the guy, you know? No? Let me try and explain..

I, like a lot of women these days, has a love for romance books. When I say romance books I mean both the innocent YA kind and the dirty “mommy porn” – they serve the same purpose. They give me a believe in the perfect love. Which is completely ridiculous right? I mean, love as a concept – I guess – exists, but the love portrayed in movies (not a big fan of rom-coms btw) and in romance books are glossy and picture perfect, and I guess real love isn’t like that. But if there is a tiny sliver of a chance that there might be a guy out there, who can make my heart feel as if it’s pounding out of my chest, who can make me shiver by whispering in my ear, and who can make it seem as if I’m seeing color for the first time, shouldn’t I be waiting for that? So I broke the heart of the only person, who’s ever been there unconditionally, and the only thing I felt was guilty that I hurt him – and that made me feel guilty for not feeling more.

In the end I think I’ve sort of come to terms with the fact, that he will always be my family. And I will always love him, but it was not fair to me, and it was definitely not fair to him, to keep a relationship going, if I was always going to wonder, if there was something more. And if there was more, I really want that for him as well.

I’m not completely sure what this rambling was for, except maybe easing my guilt – does that make me a bad person?

xx El

P.S. I’ve started writing my own romance novel, maybe I should share it here?