2 Years, 9 Months, 28 Days

He came over to my place, which he rarely does. He asked if we could sit on the bed. He said that I should brace myself.

Just like Michael, back in 2007.

Thanks for playing.

I spent more time consoling him than anything else. He was here for hours. I gave him two of the Stellas from my mini-fridge that I had stocked up on for his occasional visits, and he went on his way.

I skyped my brother. I called my ex, Brian. And in the morning, I woke up with a face so puffy that I could barely open my eyes.

I love him. I wanted to marry him. And now, it's just over.

I gave him back his grandmother's ring. The red stone that I wore daily on my left ring finger. He told me to keep it. But how could I ever wear the ring of my ex-boyfriend's dead grandmother?

He kept crying. He started hyperventilating when he realized that we weren't going to have the son that we had agreed on a name for. I got him water, rubbed his back, and told him to breathe. He broke up with me, and I had to be the strong one.

I didn't know whether to be kind to him so he'd see the error of his ways and change his mind, or be cruel so that he would know the damage he'd done. I suppose, in retrospect, that he was hurting plenty on his own.

I don't understand. We were finally in the same place. We were finally going to have a real, normal relationship. Yes, we had some adjustments to make and some kinks to work out. But he gave it a month and threw in the towel. (He arrived on March 2nd, and broke up with me April 2nd.)

This is the longest relationship I've ever had, albeit an unconventional one. We were going to hit three years in June.

He told me he still wants me in his life. That I'm his best friend. That I'm his family.

I can't imagine not talking to him every day. But I also know that I'll never heal if I don't cut off contact fully. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to.

I feel so very alone. And so very scared.