To Malcolm

Where do I start?

Hearing that you went out with someone else was as if some heinous beast had reached into my chest and tore out a piece of my heart. It's strange, that expression, "a broken heart" because the pain really felt like it stemmed from somewhere within my chest cavity. It's a real physical pain; it's not up there where you think and make logical decisions.

I know I was the one who did the breaking up. I put you through a lot of pain and anguish. I know. It's mostly my pride and selfishness that is causing my own misery. You have a right to see other women.

I ponder the reasons why you did it the way you did it. Some think you just wanted to make me jealous or piss me off and if that's true, you succeeded. You won. I cried. A lot. I spent many a night wide-eyed starring at the window. Let me out of this nightmare. Or that this was some last attempt at getting me back. Others think, you just needed a quick fuck. That actually doesn't bother me as much as disappoint me for I thought you were a different kind of man, the kind that doesn't think with that small piece of flesh hanging between his legs. Actually, what I think is that you simply needed to move on and there's nothing wrong with that. The reasons don't matter.

The days and nights have been hard. I shed a lot of tears that first night. The second I shed fewer. The third even fewer and now though I still do feel a strange pit in my chest, I think I'm okay. It gets easier as the days go by and to be honest my friends have really come through for me. They are there to comfort me, to tell me to be strong, to criticize you (which makes me feel a lot better), to eat, to laugh about our silly lives. They are great. It would be so much harder had I not had good friends to lean on.

I constantly replay all those amazing times we had together. There were so many. Everywhere I look I see something that reminds me of some experience we had. I search for some sign that you are trying to make contact with me. When the telephone rings, I hope it's you. When I turn over in my bed at night I see an imaginary outline of you body next to mine. Then it disappears. During the day, I wonder what you are up to. I wonder if you wonder what I'm up to. I do miss you much.

We were the best of friends throughout our relationship as well as after it ended. Our conversations even became more intimate afterwards too. I think perhaps the main reason why I am so upset is because I lost my best friend that night and that my best treated me with such contempt.

I was reading this book in Eslite the other day called Blink. The author talked about how some people make it in life, not only do they have wealth but they also have true happiness while others suffer bad fortune throughout their lives. He attributed it to the ability to make good decisions. Basically, there are those who have a sense about how to make the right decision most of the time leading to fulfilling successful lives. Anyway, I think I'm one of those people. Things always seem to work out for me. I know that I made the right decision to break up with you because you are certainly not the right mate for me. There are simply too many incompatible traits the main one being our differences in values. Therefore, I stand firm with the decision that we cannot be friends anymore. We both have to move on.

However, I do have some of your possessions like your tent and a good book of yours. I think you may want them back. You have the travel guide that I have to give to my coworker. I would somehow like to set up a time where we can exchange items. You can send me an e-mail or leave me a message.