A Tale of Two Months

Well, I can at least say that two months is a pretty good run, as far as my experience goes.
I wish that I could say it was longer, but B. called me tonight to break up with me. It was an hour and a half of long periods of silence; I can’t quite put all the pieces together in a coherent way. Our relationship not getting serious enough? At the same time, our relationship was too serious? We weren’t compatible? I didn’t seem to be interested enough in his life, yet at the same time he was holding me at arms length? There were a lot of contradictions in what he was saying. But it didn’t matter because what he was saying was it is over. And it didn’t matter at that point if I countered his arguments or told him I still wanted to see him, because if one person is out, it’s no good to try to make them change their mind.
And I’ve had a decade of being friends with an ex lover. It’s incredibly painful and depressing, constantly jealous and thinking of what might have been. I couldn’t do that again with another person I loved.
So here I sit, late at night, not sleeping and trying to decide how I should deal with this. I want to cry and be sad; but I also want to yell and be very, very angry.
The saddest thing is how easy it is to slip quietly back into my usual lonely, emotionally devoid state.