Days pass as if nothing had ever happened. It has been two years now, two years since I have left his bed. The man I was sure to spend the rest of my days with left my life in an instant. I didn't know how he felt about it, I was sure it meant nothing to him at all. I was so wrong.
It ended just as qiuckly as it began. A long period of grief followed by the most confusing point in my life then complete happiness and a sense, somewhat, of satisfaction. Now I'm stuck with this guilt and immense regret. The guilt... I still want him, I still feel like he was and is all I ever needed and now I regret not waiting for him. How pathetic it would have been for me to wait for him for two years. In a more real and loveless sense, I'm glad I didn't wait. My life wouldn't be what it is, not that it is anything special. It's normal. I have a great husband who is good to me and takes care of his family, myself and our one year old. I feel like the most awful person even writing this now, seeing the words.
He is ten years my senior, almost to the day. We met through mutual friends. He was with another woman at the time but it was over before I came around. They were splitting up and since she owned half of everything he had, things were complicated. They weren't married, I would never have loved him if they were. Separated, he said, and he never lied.
I miss him.
