I am tired, beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little ink drops, and posting it. And I scald alone, here, under the fire of the great moon.  – Amy Lowell

This is probably the first time that I didn’t have a physical reaction to the loss I felt over him.  Perhaps it is just the exhaustion of the last eight months that have finally moved me past that pain.  Perhaps it is the drama of a couple of weeks ago.  Perhaps it is just the exhaustion of my schedule.  I keep myself so busy so as to not have time to think about things.

There is still nothing I want more, but I really am beyond the physical pain in my heart upon seeing them or hearing about them.  I am really happy for them.  In addition, I have absolutely no interest at all whatsoever in having any kind of romantic moments. This is an uncommon situation for me.  Usually, I daydream about romance night and day.  But now, I really can see myself alone, for the first time in my life.  And I am okay with that.  Perhaps being so tired is a good thing, after all.