Yesterday was August 19th.  Yesterday would have been two years.

I'm scared of tomorrow.  Later today, my parents will drive up with me to Conway.  And sometime tomorrow, they'll leave again.

And I'm scared of how alone I'll feel.

My best friend in that town cheated on me, lied to me, broke my heart.  Everything will feel so empty.  Sure, I have a few other friends, but I've spent most of the last two years with him.  Big mistake.  Now I'm left with pretty much nothing.

So I'll go through the next two days...the next week...the next month...the next semester dreading running into him, or having him try to meet me, or seeing him happy.

Why lie?  I want him to be miserable.  I want him to hurt.  It gives me a sadistic pleasure to imagine that his life is hell without me.  I seriously doubt he gives that much of a shit, but it's still nice to think about.

And, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I want him to try to get my attention.  I want him to beg me to get back into his life.  I want to see the pain on his face as he looks at me.  Is that horrible of me?

I want him to make an effort so it might make up for all the times he screwed me over.  So it could feel like I mattered to him, at least a little bit.  Because, even though he showed he cared during our relationship, how much can he really have cared if he lied to my face and slept next to me, knowing he was breaking the trust for which he had worked so hard?

I date and it feels wrong.  The comfort I had with him is gone.  I feel like I'll never have that kind of romantic relationship.  Probably not never, but at least for a long time.  But since I'm judging the time from the wrong end of the tunnel, it seems like forever.

And when people tell me I'll find someone new, I'll still miss him.  I miss his smile and the way he'd make me laugh and sometimes even his shitty music.  And now I have to go back to the town where I fell in love with him and where I learned he betrayed me.  To the town where I had to sleep in his bed, knowing what he was doing, but unable to confront him because I had nowhere to go.  I have to drive past every place I went with him when we were happy and when we were unhappy but it was okay because I thought we loved each other.

And I have to face everyone who will say they understand and I know they do but sometimes I worry that I'm so alone in this shell of mine, where all this pain just gets bottled up because I have no idea what to do with it.  The pain, the love, the shame, the rage.

I hate this sick feeling.  I'll start remembering him fondly but then remember everything he said to her, said about me, said to my face when I knew he was lying but all I could do was sit there and take it and wonder how the hell he could look me in the eye and tell me both that he loved me and that there was nothing going on.