Our last night was spent away from every thing. I drove 5 hours into the country, battling kangaroos and loud noisy trucks to get to our destination. It was quiet, it was new, it was different and it was perfect. We spoke as if it was only the beginning, we acted as if we were both content, and we didn’t let the knowing that this was the end change our last night.
It’s been almost a week, and at some point in my day, I always find myself re-reading our emails, re-playing events, re-living memories, wishing it was not the end. I have a glimmer of hope somewhere inside of me, but when I look at the picture realistically, I realise, we can not be together. He realised this long before he even knew I knew, which was why he was always pushing himself away, always warning me that I had to be okay, telling me that he didn’t deserve me, that there might come to a point in time where I would find out something and hate him. He was wrong.