I’m starting to get angry with myself now. I’ve done very little else than sit on this couch that we both bought and both hate. It was only ever good for one thing and those thoughts will get me nowhere. I haven’t felt horny since she left, not once. 

I’ve not been to the High Street since I left work in early October. I’ve not even thrown what she left behind away. Meanwhile NG has checked in her ticket at the Station and is off to the races  and has formed a new partnership, new job, new friends and a whole new life in the Thames Valley. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous and I wished I had thought of it sooner. But like everything else I thought I knew best. As naturally saddened as I am with the absolutely horrible way our time together ended, her new found happiness does bring a smile to my face.

And what have I done? Sat here and hurt myself. In every given way possible. I’ve abused my body, my mind, my soul and most importantly my heart. I hope one day when I shine again to look back on this one long night that has lasted nearly 4 months with a sense of how lost I was compared to that fine day.

Yes it could have been a lot easier, but I’ve made it tougher than it needed to be. I’ve made it the Locked Room of my Childhood. I got withdrawn, refused to return any calls or messages, open any mail and cut myself off.  I got up l, got dressed, got high,  got undressed, go back to bed when everyone else is getting up and then repeat. I have gone weeks without seeing a soul, days without a shower. Moving only to take a toilet break. Crushed and feeling very sorry for myself here in our “riverside love nest” Ha!

Did I tell you how much I hate this flat I’m sitting in now? Everything in it, we bought together. Although I’ve paid her for it it still all feels like hers, or Ours. And there is no Ours any more. The photographs of us in the airing cupboard will go not go back on Display, but into a box and then get lost over time no doubt. I do still stare at her side of the bed and it makes sleeping harder than it already is.

Her Welsh Dresser takes up half the living room. It’s like living in her slippers. We had only signed a 12 month extension a month before she moved out in January so I’ve been contractly stuck here until now. And with the extortionate bills for a best part of year, 2 miles for the nearest I have to anything resembling a friend. She has never been left in the martial home. Good for her.

She remarked once on a returning visit that it didn’t feel like home any more. No Shit? I wonder why.. and that’s what it’s been like for me since then every long day and night. Maybe I kept it just in case she changed her mind. In case she wasn’t so mad at me any more.

If I never achieve anything else in my fucked up life, I’m getting out of this flat!!