Life goes on, seemingly without me

Today I'm back at work.

I feel like utter shit.

Over the last 24 hours or so I've had a lot more unhealthy thoughts enter my mind, mostly of the unproductive variety, such as:

Does he have any idea what he's doing?

Does he know what he's losing?

How the hell did he ever convince himself that there was anything fundamentally wrong with us?

Those things he said were wrong with us were actually completely untrue.

Will he regret this?

Why did he give in like that?

As I said, unproductive and unhelpful.

My friends have been wonderful and my mother an absolute godsend but it doesn't answer my stupid, rhetorical, unanswerable question: how the fuck do I get over this?

I went to the apartment last night with a friend to pick up some of my stuff.

Three hours later I got a text message.

This hurts so much. I'm so sorry.

Are you surprised it hurts? Did you think that erasing me from your life would be easy? This is what it is. This is what it means.

I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that you managed to convince yourself that we had problems much bigger than us, I'm sorry that you have given up everything we had and everything we could have, I'm sorry that we ever ended up here.

I admit that when that message arrived my first thoughts were of concern for you. You can't flick a switch and stop caring or stop thinking of things "together" rather than alone. But this grieving process isn't one we can go through together. You made this choice. I had no say.

I realise now that I could never have seen this coming, no matter how many times I try to tell myself that I should have.

One of my friends said, "When you decide that you have to get out, it's pretty easy to make up reasons why", and this is what you have done.

It strikes me that one of the saddest things is this: even if you discover that you were wrong, how can this not be tainted always?