love undying

After a delayed plane trip due to heightened security because of the latest terror occurrences in the UK, I arrived to a wet and, to put it mildly, depressing London. The uncertainties awaiting me here had given me a rather uneasy feeling the last days before coming back - not knowing if he would be in the flat or would have found another place to live was disconcerting. I am not unaccustomed to, nor do I dislike, travelling alone, but this trip certainly had another emotional content than that of looking forward to coming home to someone.

As I made my way down my road, the ginger colored cat that sometimes runs away frightfully and other times is extremely cuddly came up to me, purring and soft in contrast to the dark of the rainy night. I stroked it for a short while, taking in the soft touch and ignorant caress of an animal, before continuing home along the glistening leaves and shiny dimness of the asphalt. I breathed in heavily in the damp night before unlocking the front door, and entered the hallway with a strange feeling of expectation and disappointment. The door to the flat was locked (of course, what did you expect?), and as I walked into the dark living room, the contours of piled up boxes on the couch appeared in a room devoid of light.

He has left.

I didn't know whether to feel relieved or tragically sad, and as the sweet smell of his perfume lingered in the room, I knew there was more. A letter. The letter. Spelling out all the feelings of a love undying, and leaving me feeling horrendously.

I wonder sometimes if I am a bad person. If I should have been able to sense these feelings earlier, if I have acted in an unfair way, if I have been selfish and self-destructing in my choice. I am hurting myself, and I know that I am hurting a person, who means so much to me. Is that not a bad thing to do?

I need to believe that this is the right thing to do. It is simply scary how much it hurts, even if it is the right thing. I didn't think 'right things' could hurt this much, but maybe in the end, it is doing the right things that hurts the most. I guess that if I accept this, then maybe I can also learn to accept the random caress of a ginger cat as a welcome home.