grass

Last night, laying in bed, I asked about the girl from last year. I said, Why do you feel uncomfortable talking to me about her when you've been able to freely speak to me of all your other past relationships?
He said there were two reasons. The first one was that perhaps because he felt he had betrayed me. Not with words so much, because he felt he'd been quite straight that way, but in his heart.
The second was that it had hurt him the way that it ended, that she didn't wish to speak to him anymore after he'd broken up.
The second reason was more or less fine for me to hear. The first stung far more then I'd expected. Somehow it felt like he'd finally said the very real thing that I'd already felt and known inside myself but had pushed back into some far off dusty corner in an effort to avoid disturbing my present sense of contentment or delusion.
In that year when he had started dating her I'd missed him terribly. I remember feeling so confused and hurt when he'd stopped answering my texts, unable to grasp why he wouldn't strive for even just a frienship after all the intimate and sincere moments we had shared. I remember when I realized that he had started seeing her. I think I'd known it in my heart more or less from the start. I'd also known it wouldn't last. It hurt me most that he just shut me out. He said so beautifully crisply true exactly how it was and how it felt.