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It's been four days, but this hole in my chest is still left gaping and untended. I guess -- just like everything similar that's happened before -- it will be like this until the pain has gone stale and dries up on its own. I've attempted to close it on my terms this time, however:


But I waited too long, and I let my hesitation (fear? self-pity?) get the better of me:


I wasn't really expecting him to answer. I wanted to say a lot of things, though. I wanted to tell him I knew it wouldn't do any good anymore trying to talk to him again, but I wanted to be sure he decided to stop seeing me because he really fell in love with someone. Because if he did, then I would be really, genuinely, truly happy for him. But if the reason for his decision was because of something I did or said or was, then I'd like to know.

Sigh. In any case, I should really be drawing the line now. This is going to be the last page of this chapter. Elmer said it best when he quoted Kirsten Dunst from Elizabethtown, "We are intrepid. We carry on."