Someday I Will Be A Stained Glass Window

I'm going to start this off by saying that I'm drunk and sad and will horribly unfair and even crazy. I probably shouldn't be writing at all but I really need to try and tackle this—if only for my own sanity.

Michael and I broke up this past week. Three nights ago in fact. I wish I could say that I saw this coming, that I had any idea what he was planning or where this was all going… But no—I spent the last week before the break up in totally oblivion. I gave him the key to my apartment for Christmas, gave him my first New Year's kiss and even had some of the best sex of my life. So yeah—I had no idea what was about to happen to my happy little world.

It started off as the way a lot of our nights did—with plans to just get together and hang out. Nothing big, no major plans, just hanging out together. We've been a bit hectic as of late and so it was just meant to be a laid back evening. I realized that I needed to go food shopping and since I had worked late I hadn't been able to get to the store so we went together. It wasn't the first time we hit the local Ralph's together—it was supposed to be no big thing.

It wasn't until we headed back from the store, riding in the car when he told me that he was planning on moving home to New York for a bit. That he would possibly be back in 6 months—unless something happened to keep him home longer. Nothing was said about us per say—but the writing was on the wall. I was so blown out of the water that I didn't know what to say so I said very little but it was all the right things. About how I understood the choice to move home but that he couldn't expect me to live on some open ended promise that he might come back some day to be with me.

It wasn't until the next night that the reality of what happened fully set in. That even though we were a couple and in love that Michael just chose to make this huge decision about us without even talking to me about it. That he could decide to leave without even talking to me about it—or about us. It isn't fair. That when you're in a couple you don't get to pick and choose your life the same way you can that when you're single—you're supposed to make plans together and he never gave us—or me rather—that chance.

On one hand I understand why Michael wants to go home. He's been very unhappy in Los Angeles for a multiple of reasons; he's made little if any headway career-wise, doesn't like traffic and driving and misses the weather. That back in New York he has his family and career opportunities and all of his friends to be with—he could try and make some money while he lives at home. I get it but he never really told me that it was so bad that he wanted to leave here. I had no idea it was that dire.

But on the other hand I am so angry with Michael that I can barely breathe when I think about it. That I loved him—still love him—but at the end of the day all of our plans didn't matter. The fact we talked very seriously about getting married to point of proposal, about having kids, I even went to Edie for permission about him moving in—none of that meant a thing. Because if it had, if the intention was real and heartfelt then how the fuck could he just decide it was okay to leave without even the illusion of choice or discussion?

I wouldn't have asked him to stay if he had actually talked to me about the idea of moving. If he had bothered to explain his reasons instead of just telling me he was going to do this. I might have even been willing to try and work out some type of long distance relationship. Instead what I was given was no consideration for my thoughts or feelings on the subject. It hurts—I'm broken.

I know that in time I will get past this. That I won't cry or hurt or wish bad things upon him. I might even want to be his friend some day. But right now I have nothing, I'm empty, I'm shattered. That's all I have