Aftermath

What's done is done. No amount of wanting to "forget this ever happened" is ever going to work. So we must move on and deal with the aftermath.

On the whole, this has been a surprisingly good breakup. I'm saying good because no insults have been slung and I haven't hit him. Still...this sucks.

We're roommates now, he gets the couch. Neither of us wants to leave, and we do have a yearlong lease. Not to mention he owes me over a grand.

He did the most peculiar thing today. After I had a panic attack on the floor of my living room, he came over to me and held me, then got me into bed and cuddled me, until I could breathe again. And while he was holding me, I couldn't help feeling like everything was going to be okay. As much as I hate to admit it, I need that touch. So we're "free" now. I suppose that means single. And even though that distinction has been made, I felt more comfortable in his arms than anywhere I've been. Sad? Probably.