Maybe I am not one of the lucky few who get a happily ever after

It seems the universe in all its infinite wisdom is never tired of fucking with me. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe the Great Writer In The Sky regarded my story as a little “boring” and decided to mix things up a little, but whatever the case, it must be said. A couple of weeks into my being in England, JC decided that getting married might not be for him, after all. I thought it was the wedding plans spooking him, they were flying around pretty rapidly, so I told him it was okay, that we didn’t have to get married in February of 2011 (which was the plan), we could just Wait and See.

 

Hope, dangles on a string,

Like slow spinning redemption,

 

But then, not satisfied with that plot progression, the Writer In The Sky said, “Eh, that’s not enough drama. What else can we do?” and long story, short, I don’t know where my relationship is going as of this very moment. Technically, we are no longer a couple, but also, we have discussed having a one month hiatus from each other, just to figure things out. It hasn’t been an easy time in my life, but you know, all this back-and-forthing, I would just like it to end. Now. Please. I’ve never been a fan of inconsistency, also, I guess I’m more than a little annoyed right now. JC is the love of my life, yes, I love him as much as it is possible to love another human being, but really, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for me to ask for answers.

 

Winding in and winding out,

The shine of which has caught my eye,

 

Yes, I’m not perfect. I don’t operate under that delusion. We’re not perfect people. But I am willing to see this relationship to its bitter end. We have some differences that seem insurmountable. The fact that we live in two different countries, for instance. The fact that getting a work visa to the UK is super super hard, especially for a freelance writer. That is the major problem.

 

And roped me in, so mesmerising,

So hypnotising,

 

 

I hope we figure things out. I want to be with him, but I don’t want an unhappy marriage. Which is where I suppose I’m grateful to him for having the honesty to come forward with his doubts now, and not later.

 

I am captivated,

I am vindicated

 

At twenty eight, break ups don’t involve a night of binge drinking and flirting with every available man. At twenty eight, I closet myself away, avoiding social situations, seeing a few select friends when I want to, but not making any major night-on-the-town plans. At twenty eight, breaking up is both easier and a LOT harder than it ever was before.

 

I am selfish, I am wrong,

I am right, I swear I’m right,

I swear I knew it all along.