Sometimes, there's something very restful about the darkness. Obviously most people prefer to sleep in the dark, but this is different. There is a profound sense of relief, or release, as soon as I walk into a darkened room. Yesterday I retreated to my bed, and curled up in the dark almost as soon as the sun went down. I sat in the dark and cried into my tea. And what a miracle is tea! There's something magic about a cup that's brewed and brought out of love, something medicinal and soothing when you're hurting. A blessing in the water.
I have been sad and crying a lot, but as breakups go, I guess this is the best I could have asked for--in fact, this is exactly the breakup that I did ask for. I prayed over and over, so many times, that if David and I were to break up, either he would do it, or it would be something we both realized needed to happen. I got both wishes, and I am thankful, but I wish he weren't in such pain. Or rather, I wish he weren't so withdrawn and empty and so numb to everything that this hardly even feels different to him. Maybe those are mutually exclusive, but I'd almost wish him sadness over this half-alive, autopilot existence he's been leading these past two months or so.
Last night the moon was half full, and tilted at a crazy angle, looking like all the center might spill out into space.
A lot of people have been very supportive, but I am so lonely.