“I’m sorry. It’s just not working out.”
As I said these words, I could see the look in her eyes as she collapsed inside. God, I knew how she felt and I felt like shit. But what was I to do? My heart was a ball of lead and she had done nothing to melt it. I didn’t think it right or proper to keep things going longer than they needed to.
She left in tears and I just lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling fan, trying to hypnotize myself into being someone else.
Maybe I shouldn’t even be doing this yet. I know I’m not ready. I’m really doing this to try and ease the pain a little, like drinking, but I’ve never been that much of a drinker. I find a bit of surcease from being in the company of other women. I find I forget about everything while I am interacting and out and about, but the truth is that once I am alone it all comes rushing back in. No matter how many emotional sandbags I put up, the flood doesn’t stop.
I know why I am doing this. I am trying to find a replacement. I’m trying to fight fire with fire, to douse out the old flame with a new flame, but no one is catching me on fire and man am I doing a lot of damage in the meantime. I am leaving behind me a trail of destruction that can probably be seen from space. I try to tell myself that I get out before I hurt them too much but the looks on their faces tell me otherwise.
I just have to stop. I know how it feels. I know how devastating it is and I don’t want to be that guy.
I don’t want to be a heartbreaker.