It’s been seven weeks since we spent that lovely summer afternoon at the open air museum. Sipping beers into which my tears fell. He bought me a strawberry tartlet, my favourite, to wipe away the tears and put a smile back onto my face.
Breaking up is never easy, but somehow I find it even harder when things have just run its course. No one to be angry at. No one caused this, it just happened, or at the very least we both let it happen.
We still talk and laugh and remain friends. Which is the best possible outcome i think. Yet this all makes the past seven years seem like such a blur. Like its fading away.
I don’t want it to become a distant memory, and at the same time I do because I look forward to what the next seven years will bring. Endless possibilities, that’s where I’m at right now. That freedom feels suffocating and liberating at the same time. Guess that’s what happens when you decide together to each go your own separate ways: all of a sudden everything has opposite sides.