I hate these conversations that go nowhere. My body language must scream this out.
He’s convinced we just have to try. Again. And this will magically change everything, wipe out all the hurt, and I will fall back in love with him. I can’t see this as even a remote possibility. Apparently, my choosing to stay five years ago does not count as trying. But this time will be different. Because he says so. And if I say otherwise, I’m just being negative, raining on his parade. He’s strangely proud of this new idea that he can change. That we can change. The trouble is, I don’t want to change. I like this person I’ve grown to be.
I keep reaching new depths. How low can you go? I’m writing some of this down in the hope I can leave it behind tomorrow, and go off to Anglesey with a clear head. I need to sit on a beach, and just be. Be me. And see how that feels. We have two weeks apart. No idea what happens after that.