Moving on is never easy.

Don't get me wrong; I'm all for change, most of the time, and I've never actually had any difficulty moving on in the past. But things have changed.

What happens when you're not sure there's anything better to move on to? What happens when moving on somehow means moving further away from perfection? What happens when you find your perfect mate, and he's not so perfect — just like you? What happens when you just can't seem to live together, love together? What have you got then?

Nothing. Nothing at all. I am drowning in nothingness.

I learned, a very long time ago, that love is never enough. (I know. I know. That must certainly be the title of a very bad song.)

If I could work myself up into a man-hating rage, I would blame it on men, say that the men in life have shown me so — and then I might feel better — but I feel only regret.

[[Please tell me, by the way, how people that loved can hate so strongly. I've never understood the hatred or disinterest that follows most relationships. How can you determine that someone is good enough to build a life with, but not good enough to hold in your life when that doesn't work out. I mean, yes, there must be a period of absence in order to make the transition, but... There was something there, right? Why lose everything? I miss... so much.]]

Onward...

Love is never enough.

Sometimes... always.. there is more to it. There is day-to-day existence. And that, we know, is difficult. There are details. Details. And details build. And in the end, it's all details. There is no wholistic picture to be had.

I have spent a good part of my adult life (Let's just keep my childhood out of this for now. I don't want to get all Freudian on you.) loving and learning — as sappy as that sounds. And I have loved well. And perhaps even, I have been loved well (though this is up for questioning). But I have always felt that there is some part of me — an important part of me — that was never understood. Perhaps it's been a cultural thing. I'm sure it has at times. Perhaps it's been a gender thing. I'm sure it has at times. Perhaps it's been a personal thing. It's always been so. But... for once.. for once.. I did not feel so.

What happens when you finally find someone too much like you, when you finally find someone with the same world view, when you finally find someone who thinks and feels like you, lives like you — and still you walk away? What's left?

Nothing.

I feel empty.

I have never been scared of being alone. Until now, that is... until now.

And what I just don't understand, what I cannot understand, is how he swiftly turned away.