If I'm to capture how I feel today with a single word I'd call it defeat. The irony that I'm the one who defeated me doesn't help either. It just feeds this small but consistent knot in my chest.

I've always been a romantic. I've always wanted to believe that one day, against all odds (or just some odds) I would find my true partner in life. I wanted to believe against all hope that that person was the person I was with. After every moment of doubt or every fight I would hope that one day we would come out on the other side of this and be fulfilled in our relationship. What a story that would make. A Real story about romance and love and hard work.

What I didn't see was the present. A present where for most of the relationship I had a hard ball of doubt in my gut that wondered 'are we too different to make it work?'. A present in which I was starting to wonder more and more if there was something really wrong with me. I left with the words that I was just broken and I needed to fix myself. I wonder now if that is actually true. Whether the doubt in the relationship and my guilt over it, combined with our mismatched communication styles isn't what made me feel the way it did.

Right now I feel defeat. Because I couldn't make this future a reality, even though we seemed to have all the right building blocks to make it so. I feel guilty for giving up. I can't bring myself to talk about the breakup with anyone but my parents yet. At work they don't know (even though they are very supportive and I've been nothing but open to them before) and it was hard to focus. I can't push myself to openly look for a place to live yet. I can't even force myself to watch the shows we'd usually watch together. Shows I love.

He texted me the other day, asking me to please, please not move out. To reconsider. To take time to work on myself while staying at my parents or friends' places. To just not close the door on us entirely. I didn't respond. I guess part of me is scared of closing that door entirely. Almost as scared as he is at the thought of losing me. Losing us.

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I spent the weekend with my parents Amazing dog (that I might have had a hand in them getting, another story for another day) (obligatory puppy shot!) but I miss my cat. I miss her like crazy even though he's probably a better kitty-daddy than I am a kitty-mommy.

I feel defeat. Guilt. Disappointment. None of the intoxicating possibility as I did the first time I walked away, fought my way free. It feels more real this time, it also feels less real. Regardless of all those feelings I know that this is the right choice, the only choice, for me. I can't stay in a relationship where I feel constantly locked and heavy. Even if it is no ones fault.