Nov. 8th, 2015

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I went running. I pushed my body all the way to the park and down the stairs to the lake. I took a picture and sent it to Joachim before running back up those stairs and back to the house. I felt like I had to run away from these awful feelings.

I'm unable to describe what I feel. I feel unrelenting sadness, of course. But the other feelings? Fear. Worry. Devastation. But even relief. I could tell that he had been pushing me away for some time.

It's been a few days. The nights are achingly lonely. The room where we would lay in bed and joke around and trade cute pictures of puppies is now awkwardly crammed with my stuff, noticeably void of any of his.

The house is the same way. Especially the kitchen, once a place where I would eagerly experiment with all kinds of dishes and ingredients and he'd help me chop vegetables and taste-test my creations. A room now devoid of any joy, just relics of what was once my passion, my vehicle with which I showed my love and affection for everyone I cared about, especially him.

All the memories and good feelings we once brought to this house have been replaced with a cold, unwelcoming awkwardness. The kind of residual heaviness that lingers in a room after a heated, unresolved argument. The kind I just want nothing to do with. So I run away from it.

That's just what I do.

And the fact that John felt the need to continue this domino effect of complete destruction of my life as I know it puts my "run away" method of dealing with things into full effect. If you move, they can't catch you.

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hurricanelaura

August 2016

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