THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
The prospect of leaving (finally leaving I think but I don't really know why) London pulls my heart in unexpected directions
I think mostly that the prospect of leaving you feels so painful. I had not expected a future without you in it, somewhere, on the edges, standing just in the frame.
You are a complicated piece of my life. I have no real name for you, but you own a piece of me and I have always loved you so much, even when I hated you, even when you tore me to pieces
Leaving Eleanor or Kelly or Ross will be a clean cut pain. It will be terrible, but the edges will be defined.
We fought so hard to keep each other. And it was terrible and painful and so difficult but we both did it and fought- fought- to keep the other one, even when it was not practical. Even for an hour, once a month, anything. Even when we could barely speak to each other, you still called me round. When you were furious with me and I hated you, I still sat in front of you in cafes and restaurants.
I know your heart, you know mine. For this reason, you are impossible to let go.
It was possible and reasonable and would have been easy, easy-
But even now, even now- You say, I wish you were here and this is not a thing that you would say and I know that you mean it.
The last time I saw you, you were drunk and sad. I slipped my arm in yours and dragged you back into my house. Made you tea until you were in fighting shape.
I miss you
I will miss you so much
I have to go
I don't think you will understand
But I've got to go