You May Think. . .
You may think I am stupid.
You may think I am weak.
You may think I am desperate.
You may even think I am pathetic.
And you might be right.
I have felt all of those things.
I have believed all of those things.
But I refuse to get lost in those things.
I refuse to let them consume me.
Do I know what I am going to do? Not right now I don’t. I am trying not think about it, because right now the point is moot. He and I have had no contact, and I am not planning on contacting him. I still have some of his clothes, all of his good pants, which I actually starched and pressed the same night I found out he had been screwing around. I am aware this is odd behavior, but there was something therapeutic in the ironing. He texted me on Friday and asked if he could get his clothes, but I didn’t answer. He texted on Saturday and asked the same, and I told him yes, and that I would let him know when. I asked him to not bring her, out of respect. He said he had kicked her out. Should I believe him? Probably not, but I suppose it’s possible he did kick her out. Either way, I texted him a couple hours later and told him he could come get them, and to please bring my key. I also told him it all seemed so final, and it made me sad. I haven’t heard from him since. I don’t think it was about the clothes.