The blog dies when controversy dies. It seems to come alive when I know someone's reading.
Hi Freddie, thank for coming by ;).
Rex called. He called, and we spoke, and we decided to break up. Something that left me feeling sad but relieved. We said we would continue to be in each others lives, and at some point in the next month we would meet up to exchange each others things left at our houses. We were honest. He told me he didn't know why he was acting the way he was, that he still thought I was perfect, I told him I thought he was still broken from his last relationship and he needed to deal with his thoughts on that before he could make a new one.
Things were good, he poked me a week later with a picture of his finished garage, to which I replied with my view from my hospital hidaway with coffee in hand. I called him a week later to set up a time to meet up -- no answer, left a message.
Two weeks later he hadn't called back, so I sent him a brief text "*insert my address here*, let me know when you send my things, hope all is well!"
No response text, and two weeks later I get a package. My things, no note, no nothing.
Rex is officially gone, without even so much as a goodbye.
It was the first time I cried since the break up.
I still have his things. I haven't mailed them to him yet... I can't bring myself to do it. Not only does he have a couple of LARGE object that are financially annoying to mail, but I can't bring myself to heartlessly put objects into a package and to mail them without a final word.
I've been staring at the box of his things for the past week willing myself to the post office. "Maybe I should just drive them over and drop them on his doorstep without him seeing me" I try to convince myself, "then he'll never have the chance to call about the things I never mailed." Other times I just want to send the box with the things easier to mail. Sometimes I'm ready to send a cold box with no note, other times I tell myself to be a bigger person and but a nice little poke in there, and other times, I want to tell him I miss him and write a quirky "you never returned my call." note.
So I sit there, and stare at the box, not knowing what to do. Not wanting to do the wrong thing. And not wanting to put myself out there, because I always told myself when a boy makes you cry - you move on.
