It's been a little over three weeks since I called it quits with my boyfriend of two years. I always envisioned that I would spend the post breakup period drenching my pillow in tears, avoiding all of our old haunts and feverishly hiding every remnant of him that still remained in my room. Yet the process has been a much more subtle and profound experience. Every now and then, when I am alone and bored for too long, my mind drifts to him. I want so badly to call and see how he's doing but I know that is verboten, I know that will taunt him. I wonder what he had for dinner, what work has been like, if he misses me. Maybe his life is better off without me. And although I don't feel a burning loss in the center of my soul, sometimes I really, really long for him. We were so interwoven, so together. How did it end up this way? I was so comfortable around him, so unguarded. I told him everything; perhaps I let him see too much. On nights such as these when I was tired of doing homework I would call him up and he would come sit on my bed and we'd make fun of commercials on TV and tease one another. Then he's stay over and get up an hour before I did to go to work; he'd kiss me on the cheek before he left. I usually was deep in slumber but I'd always know if he had kissed me goodbye or not.

I wanted this. I wanted to be free, I wanted to leave him in the dust and never look back. I've done just that: plowed on with my life, buried myself in schoolwork and my job and staying out late and drinking. But I have to peek around the corner sometime, I have to face the decision I have chosen. I wonder if this is the biggest mistake I've ever made. I don't feel that way now, but sometimes I fear that I'll get to be old and realize that he was the one. I'm not sure if I even believe in finding "the one" anymore. It seems to me that different people are appropriate in different times of your life, and he is not right for me now. I just want someone to be here, I want someone to lay next to. I'm not sure if this new prospect will ever materialize into anything. He tells me he really likes me but only when we're drunk and kissing in his bed. That's probably all he wants out of this; I'm a fool to think anyone could truly want me again, not like my old boyfriend. He had fire in his eyes for me and I turned my back on him, running the risk that no one will ever feel that for me again. I really hate this we're-together-but-not-official-so-it's-ambiguous thing. I either want to be someone's girlfriend or I don't want to be anything. I just get too attached, too involved. I don't know whether to call because I run the risk of being a "psycho." With the boyfriend I never had to worry about that. Now I do. I just want him to tell me that he really likes me while he's sober and when we're having an intelligent conversation. Perhaps I've moved on too quickly. I wonder if I'll ever be truly happy.