I've become a master at compartmentalizing. I got over the most recent guy I dated in two days and a bottle of wine. I got over my last boyfriend of six months in a week. I got over earl grey in...4 years and counting.
It's not the first night I've lied awake thinking about him. Don't get me wrong, I don't think about him on a daily basis and I certainly don't let him hinder my dating life, but I've also more or less accepted that I'll always love him. There are sides of me I haven't experienced since I was with him, and I legitimately think I knew myself better when we were together. He's the only one in my adult life who's seen my inner child, and he's the person who has made me the happiest, saddest, and the most livid I have ever been. I've never lived life or loved anyone with such intensity.
We are magnets held apart only by the hundreds of miles between SF and LA, and our worthless rational logic that tells us we'd never make it in the long run.
Whenever I turn into this nostalgic mess I know it's just because the nights (and wine) make me more vulnerable. But if I wake up feeling the same way I do now, I think I need to tell him. I know admitting it to ourselves will be opening a Pandora's box we tried to close years ago - but what if it was never meant to be closed?
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