Friday, June 04, 2004


Well. It's 2 years today since X left.

What a day that was. Quite possibly the hardest 'grown-up' day of my life. It was the hardest thing I ever did to walk out of that apartment, leaving X in there, knowing he was flying back to the UK that afternoon.

I often wonder if he wanted me to beg him to stay. I know I would have done if I'd spoken to him during the day. I knew what time his taxi was coming for him, so 5 minutes before that I went to the loo at work and just cried for 10 minutes. When I got back, he had phoned and left me a voice message. I think if I'd taken that call things might have been different. Well, not that different, I suppose. I don't regret us splitting - it so was the right thing to do - but I think if I'd spoken to him, he wouldn't have gone, and it would have just delayed the whole process.

And what a 2 years I've had. That first summer is just a Prozac and Valium blur - I really can't remember much about it at all. Then I started to get it together a bit - and I remember the first time I snogged some bloke in a bar, and the incredible high I got for it making me realise things could move on.

It's not been easy - and I know I am still not completely over it, but things are so different now - we are both different people.

Still, it is a very sad anniversary.

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