I have to plan his farewell. It's quite the cruel twist - seeing as I'm probably going to be the only person sitting at that function, willing him to stay. Two weeks - 14 total days - 9 actual contact days until I see him for the last time. I tried very hard not to be like this, not to take on the 'woe is me' persona. Logically, I know the score. My head now just wants to protect my heart - I just need him gone, so that I don't have to hear him talk anymore about his next adventures. Part of me is happy that he is happy, but an overwhelming part of me just wants to crawl into a dark quiet corner to try and forget about the way my world used to be when he was in it. I wonder how long it will take, before I forget the way his clicking joints sound as he walks the halls, before I forget the sound of his voice, the colour of his eyes... those lovely eyes.
I know there are two options here. One, tell him - just spill it all - every detail, every awkwardness, out in the air, to be carried away by the birds. But I can't do that. Two, suck it up - deal with it for 9 more days and piece myself together afterwards.
I know, life could be so much worse, in so many numerous ways. I am grateful for the good I have - but I am also resentful of this beautiful green-eyed thing that is not mine.
Reality is, planning this function means thinking about him more than I should, and more than my mental health can take.
Sucking it up, as we speak.