I was mistaken

The Ex wants to have coffee. Or catch up. Or both.

And I couldn't articulate the things I felt. I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't say, It's been six months and I'm better but I still love you and while I do a damn good job hiding it, busying myself so that I don't think it, if I had just a moment to breath I would be crushed with how it's been six months and I still love you.

It shouldn't be easy to forget. It's okay. Right?

Will he get lumped in with the rest? Eventually he will be Just Another Man I Loved, when shouldn't it mean a little more? I lived with a man in college, before I knew The Ex, and now I could care less about him, this man who I spent countless hours with, who I talked marriage with. I have an unsettling fear that nothing really matters, that it's all fleeting, that no one stays with you.

I want to still love him, I think. Not loving him any longer feels like negating the love entirely, feels like it never happened, feels like I can move on. I'm supposed to move on, I get it. Trust me, I get it. But I want to preserve it, I want to feel it, I want it to mean something, I don't want it to be swept under the rug as another ugly mistake. Because at the time, it felt like everything. Everything can't turn into Another Huge Mistake.

I've gotta quit making mistakes.