back again back again

It's funny how quickly I reverted to the heart-ache part of my grief cycle.

Last time, I cried for days. I wondered why and fantasized about how to get him back. And then, at last, at long last, I just felt a dull, hollow, massive ache inside of me. It was a horrible feeling. But it was so much better than the first hunk of grief that I was actually relieved.

I'm not as much relieved to feel this again. It's right back where I was when he decided friends with (limited) benefits was an acceptable exchange for a real relationship. And so I was saved from the large empty chambers of my heart. In a sense. Or maybe I just found a way to put off recovering from my hurt.

That's probably not something that should be put off.

Of course I still think, what could I have done to stop this?

The answer? Maybe nothing. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned when I didn't cum. Maybe I should have mentioned it while we were still naked. Maybe I should have taken more initiative throughout the whole thing.

But all that doesn't really matter now, does it?

I've lost the pleasure that was helping me to fill the empty chambers, and now the silence is ringing in my ears. My own voice doesn't echo in the void like his did.