This is where we are and this is what it's like here.

I thought I was over this a long time ago. I thought I was done mourning it.

Someone says "This is never going to work. It's never going to work. It's never going to work," in the most kind, loving, patient way they can for such a terrible message. You hear it but don't quite believe it.

He says it again later. This time it stings a bit, so you shed some tears. For whatever this connection is worth in the present, you keep with it so he has to remind you again. There's no future in this for you. Now you begin to understand and there are more than a few tears, in fact you weep and think Oh God, my heart.

You don't talk about it anymore when you're together, but during your long sleepless nights alone, tears slink down your cheeks and soak your pillow. Finally your mother's voice tells you to just sleep, to get off the hamster wheel of despair, and to spare yourself.

You learn, when you think of him, to sigh in resignation instead of crying. You try to shift your standards to that of a more casual friend: no nightly phone calls, never a letter or a visit when you're struggling. You tell yourself this is right and proper: to depend on others and broaden into a new life. But you still sigh with longing for his company.

Probably you give in and see him again. Parts go well. Other parts don't. You're reminded of the hot furnace he stokes in you, but also the cold isolation of his proclamation. He can't show you he wants you beyond tonight.

This time you sigh out of nostalgia, out of understanding. You sigh because you see it yourself, "This has no future."

So you think you're moving on. You think you've worked through it all.

You begin to connect with someone else. You don't know if you're ready for it, and fight the idea of something new that will be complicated from the start. But there's something worth exploring, so you decide Yes.

Then this other one is back, hard. And now he's saying Yes. Please. Here's everything I never offered you.

And it's you now who has to say No. No I don't want to try. No. I had time. I understood your No and came up with my own. Try not to be bitter. Try to feel clear.

At this point in your life, you believe in what you feel and how you think. You trust your instincts. Your thinking is straight. When you say No, you know it and feel it.

But it's by no means easy. It gives little satisfaction and no joy to say it. This time you're ending it.

And weep again for all you've lost.

And for all you never had.

This is where we are an this is what it's like here.