C'est fini

So this happened.

That's not my story, and it's not 100% accurate to what happened between me and Le copain français, but it comes pretty damn close to it.

It was not my decision (clearly) and in retrospect, I'm not sure how much of it was my fault. Basically shit happened to me, and then different shit happened to him. I dealt with my shit by getting both bitchy and clingy; he dealt with his shit by pulling away, which (of course) made me bitchier and clingier. It pretty much downward spiraled from there.

It's been a while and I still don't really want to talk about it much. What I do want is to go back in time to mid-January and do a lot of things differently. Sadly, my time machine is out of commission, so I'm stuck figuring out how to move on from here. I still miss him and it still hurts. Some days more than others.

L thinks that "One day, great books shall be written about my wig, and how I doth FUCKING FLIPPED IT FOR NO GODDAMN REASON" should be embroidered on a pillow. I'm half tempted to do so, since I have both cross-stitch supplies and an abundance of free time on my hands.