Life Moves On

I was a mess, you know. After it all happened. I couldn't quite comprehend everything that was happening. I just knew it was over when I heard that night.
I didn't want to believe it was though.
I wanted to believe there was something worth fighting for. Looking back, I don't think there was. I think you were looking for a reason to give up on us.
She fed you a lie, which she had admitted to you later, and you believed it. You believed a complete stranger over me.
Up until the moment I found out what was going on, I was blissfully unaware of what happened. I was thinking about when you would return from Afghanistan. About the package I already put together for you. The letter I was excited to send you in the bottom of it.
I had no doubt that I would stand by you throughout this.

But then that news was broken to me. The one who told me tried to break it gently about what happened. There is no way news of such a underhanded thing can be broken easily.
It's hard to describe the cascade of emotions that ran through me at that point. The sick feeling in my stomach. I had promised, prior to hearing, that I wouldn't retaliate. I didn't. I still haven't. Despite how much I wanted to.
I don't remember much from those first few moments. The cuts and bruises on my hands say I punched some things. Wall lockers. The wall. Probably the door when I flew out the room.
I don't know if you know what it's like to have your world flipped like that. To feel this massive, all-consuming void inside you.
I remember collapsing to the floor when I made it back to my room. I remember dialing the number of the only person I could think of to tell this all to. Then I abruptly remembered I couldn't talk to her; she was on post.
My world crumbled. I remember being yelled at to pull myself together after finding myself on the floor of my room. I couldn't breathe. I thought I couldn't.
I made another phone call. To my sergeant. She'd been to the sandbox a few times. She knew what it was like over there. She also knew what it was like to be waiting stateside for someone to come home.
I told her what happened

Driving. Northbound. I was tired of crying. My buddy, he came with from the schoolhouse and was a squad leader there alongside me, was kind enough to just drive.
We found ourselves at a Silver Diner somewhere on the fringes of the NCR, middle of the night.
That's when I finally found the words to say to you. To try and explain. What a dismal failure that was. I knew you wouldn't want to hear it. But I had to try, you understand?
I'd hate myself even more if I hadn't tried everything I could. Though you can't salvage anything from a wreck that's been completely vaporized.
That's the funny thing, I don't know if it's a me-thing or something I've managed to acquire since becoming a Marine, but despite the fact I know failure is unavoidable... I'll still fight it until the bitter end. And I did.
We eventually came back to base. I passed out in bed, it was futile waiting for you to respond.
You did, finally.

I woke up to that.
My initial response? Find her. I wanted to confront her. Since that still hadn't happened since learning of it. I never did. She was hiding away in a friend's room. Instead, clutching my phone and keys, unable to stand any longer, sit down on the floor babbling. Babbling like a goddamn lunatic, just repeating over, "She needs to fix this. Why would she do this." her friend tried comforting me, which was weird.
Then out of no where, I get up and sprint down the hallway, down the ladderwell, back to my room.
At that point, I called your mom. You know this, I'm sure of it. She'd never keep that from you. I think I told her what happened, I don't know anymore. Life from that point just blurred together. Yes, I know I pretty much said fuck you to the whole, "Don't contact me or my family ever again." portion of what you said. As I've said before, I had to try and make things right. At that point, the objective was no longer to hold onto the dying relationship so much as to have you believe me.

Walking. I left my part of base. Just walked. My friend, the one who I couldn't contact the night before, called asking if I was alright. I briefly explained. She picked me up. Drove around base. I talked. I cried. I was numb.
We pulled into a parking lot near the little riverfront park.
Then the most unusual thing occurred. I got a text message from the most unexpected person on the face of this planet.
Your closest friend from Lost in the Woods.
If it weren't for the fact that everything had stopped making sense already, I'm positive my mind would have been blown.  I don't know if you knew he was texting me. You both were sitting through briefs all morning. But he was a big comfort, he believed I wasn't capable of hurting you like she said. He told me to let go. That you already moved on, and I hated myself so much in that moment.

I wandered the little wooded trails for most of the morning after that. It was nice being alone, though no one really wanted me to be left unattended at that point. It was pathetic, looking back on it, my pleading with you. You already made up your mind.

Later, much later, I return to the room. I finally confront her. But instead of yelling, being angry, I just talk to her. Normal conversational voice. Of course, she screamed like a five year old child. She yelled about how she could have done so much worse to me. Honestly, I doubt that. She already did do the worst to me. Also, the apparent rumor that I heard a little later was that she "beat the shit" out of me and "had to be pulled off". When I heard this, I laughed. It was the first time I had legitimately laughed in a while.
I just let her yell. I didn't know I could be so patient. Don't get me wrong, I loathe her existence. But I pity her, mostly. She'll get what she deserves in the end. She's the one who has to live with that judgement weighing on her soul.
Since then. She's tried "making it up" to me. She thinks we're BFFs or some shit. I don't speak to her more than necessary, I'm polite simply because I know I'm better than that. I read what she sent you, she showed me.She thought, by her insincere apologies to me and a very forced message to you, that she was good and all was forgiven.
I cannot wait to move out of this damn room. As it turns out, she will be sharing a head with someone else whose relationship she tried fucking up. Funny how that works.

I've wanted to know something. We would've ended even without her being the precipitate, wouldn't we?

I am convinced that it would have. You're with someone else already. Someone who you were with before, I imagine. It's none of my business, really.
You stopped talking to me after October 23rd. Then out of the blue a month later, you try to spark conversation. That set me back quite a ways. I still cannot figure out how, "Don't contact me ever again..." turns into "Hey. How's Virginia treating you?"
I'm sure I was a borderline alcoholic for a while. A functioning one, and it did not interfere with work at all considering I'm still being praised for being a squared away Marine. It's funny how you can hide the hurt when duty calls.

I'm improving. Instead of drinking every moment I have off, like it was for a while, I'm back to where I was before all of this.


Whether or not we want it to, life continues on with or without us. It's finding the strength to get up and carry on that ends up being the real trick.
And I have.
Mostly.

Life has been... Different.
That's all for now. Maybe I'll update you as to the weird turns life has taken me since then.