Went to see the graduate program advisor today. Ended up crying in front of him. Got it under control quickly, but I can't help but now feel regret and resentment towards my chosen path, the one that takes me away from GV8.

I hurt so much. I miss him so badly. He was supposed to be it and because I wanted marriage and possibly kids, because I wanted to pursue my education... examining everything, kicking myself for making jokes with him about reproducing. So many jokes, so much pleading, teasing, hoping.

I asked him to drop my stuff off at my work, instead of mailing it, as I was worried that the mail service would damage my laptop.

He sent me this text in return:

Hi V. Will have Nick drop by work Friday with everything. It would hurt too much to see you. Be well.

Nick is one of his employees, the one who kept me company for part of the wait I had when I chased after GV8 two weeks ago today.

Those two weeks have felt like a month. A wonderful month.

And now... this. Me crying into pillows, into blankets, into tissues, in the grad department's office, in my car, at the gas station, on my mother.

My father wanted to talk to me last night. His speech was essentially, "I told you so. But I wanted you to learn on your own."

And I was standing there, letting him do his father role, wanting to walk away, tell him to stop talking, that he had no idea what went on between GV8 and myself, and that he was making me feel worse because of his inattention to my pain and his need to lecture.

But I let him. Because he's been so stressed lately and he needs to feel in control.

So I let him make me feel horrible. I let him give me mini-lectures on the folly of relationships with older men not seeking commitment. I let him tell me how good he was for not interfering and letting me do it on my own. How he's letting me learn the hard way. How he knew this would happen. Etc etc etc fuck etc.

I keep stopping to cry. This post is taking forever to write.

And I need more kleenex.

This should not be ending. This shouldn't be over.

But it is.

I'm left here in barely connected pieces. Wondering who would have someone like me. Wondering if there is someone who could ever live up to what I need in a partner. Finding someone like GV8 was... so unexpected. So rare. A retired career criminal, sentenced to life, battling even more life sentences. And then... releaesd. An expert with a gun, with being in charge, in control, doing what has to be done. Traveling all over the country, making so damn much money. Expert testimonials. Doing anything to survive, starting with nothing once released from prison, then (legally) creating a mini-empire.

I felt so safe. So goddamned safe for once. Loved, cherished, protected, adored.

He was almost everything I could have asked for in a man. All that was left wanting was monogamy, marriage, potentially children. Three huge things, I know. The monogamy I was willing to waver on.

Huge things. Things that I was willing to work with. Fluid identity.

I texted him a little bit ago, expressing my heartache. I didn't expect him to get back to me, but he did. Telling me that he hurt as well, things hadn't been easy, but there was no overcoming our major differences (above), but he still loved me.

Must be nice, being so mature. I should work on that whole "maturity" thing. But sometimes it seems like mature is just another descriptor for being able to distance yourself from your emotions so strongly that you cease to feel. Which is a problem of mine that I don't feel is a sign of maturity at all. I know I need to hit a middle ground of acknowledgement, acceptance, and functioning, but I'm not there yet.

Anyhow, Maurice has ordered me to go watch a funny movie, so I'm going to go see what's on cable and try to cheer myself up.