once we move.

I can't say that I feel heartbroken.
I suppose heart-torn would be a more assessment.

I sat with my head against my wall staring at the corner of my ceiling thinking about how I was going to form words when he showed up.
It was nearly two-thirty in the morning when the knock on our front door interrupted my roommate mid-sentence. We looked at each other and I immediately knew what I had to say to him.

He sat down on the bed and looked at me with the all too familiar dazed expression on his face.
I instantly felt as though I was underwater, trying to come up for air long enough to say what I needed to say.
But I couldn't.
Inside my head I was making eye contact and breaking up with him in the same detached, empty way I have in the past.
This time I was fully aware that if I opened my mouth I would not be able to speak.

It all became abundantly apparent to me last night. We clearly weren't in the same place anymore. Maybe we never were but we were both too dazed to notice. Just in very different ways.

"It was clear to be one night when we were sitting on the floor that I cared much more about you than you would ever care about me"

I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the coffee in my hand feeling something between heart broken and torn.

But at least I felt something.