The pain gets worse as the day goes on. Yesterday and today I had a moment or two just as I was waking up when I felt optimistic. It’s as if I wake up forgetting how sad I am but then it comes trickling back into my mind and by the time I’m making coffee I’m weeping again.

The evenings are especially painful. I run out of things to do to distract myself. We spent our evenings together.

Tonight after dinner, I went out to get beer because we were out. The cheapest, closest place with good beer is a gas station convenience store sort of near M’s house. On the way there (which is not really on the way) I drove past his house and then drove past it again on my way home. I pictured myself knocking on the door and telling him how much pain I’m in, asking for a hug, just a hug, if ever you loved me, if ever you thought of me even as a friend, you’d give me a hug and help me get through this because look how much I’m hurting. I don’t think anyone was home. Thank god. I watch myself doing these things and know how ridiculous they are, but I’m unable to stop myself.

By sunset, the whole weight of it is back, sitting on my heart. Heavy drinking helps. It helps to be not quite conscious of going to bed alone.

Things I have to avoid because they make me start crying:

1. Anything about Mexico, including the Spanish language and Mexican food, and especially anything about Mexico City.
2. Anything having to do with the Medieval period, the French language, and France.
3. Mad Men.
4. Movies or stories about people falling in love or being in love or staying in love.
5. Cooking.
6. Eating.
7. Liberty Bar and East Side King (the little food trailer in back of the bar -- it was our favorite).
8. The drive down Springdale and west on 12th St. (the route I took to and from M’s almost every day for the last 7 months).
9. Most of East Austin and the U.T. campus (where M lives and works).

#1 is the toughest one. I fell in love with Mexico City and M at the same time. It was on our trip there that I let down my defenses, let myself trust that we’d be together for a long time because he told me that’s how he felt. It’s important to me to verify that I was not telling myself a story based on my own fantasies and desires; I never took a step before very carefully confirming that he was taking that step, too. I don’t want to blame M for any of this, but I do want to know that I was not delusional, that I did everything I could to avoid being hurt like this. I want to know that I am not a complete idiot.