Separation

Separation is such a cliched theme, I feel sick for even writing about it.
But there's not much else you can do,
once you've left.

"Getting over it" seems to be much more natural when you have someone to blame, an object to receive all that anger and resentment, if only figuratively.

I don't even know why I'm bitching. I did this to myself. I knew I had to leave, but I fell in love anyway, and then left, fell on my own sword.

I suppose it's not quite as campy as Unrequited Love, which seems easier to unpack, but harsher to swallow, as it is just a bundle of insecurities.

Yes, I guess being the leaver and not the left is preferable, but not easier. "It's just that I want you to still want me, while I'm on another coast, while I'm in another time zone, while you can't have me, while I am finding myself, while everything is up in the air, while I am seeking my fortune, while I am unstable, while I am figuring out west coast dudes, while you are settling into your thirties . . ."

Ay, Cachete, sabes que te amo. Que voy a hacer sintigo? Siento perdida sin ti, como una cachorrita, bebe. Lloro cada noche sin falla. Porque me tratas con silencio asi? Es una tortura. A lo menos, me pudieras llamar o escribir, pero me das nada, despues de tanto que te he dado. Eres malo conmigo, cabron.

Ya no te amare.
Te juro