I've been listening to "Run to You" by Lacey Sturm on repeat for long stretches over the past few days. It is a gorgeous, brutally honest song about a conflicted, confusing end to a relationship that may or may not really ever end.
This exercise in emotional sadism is to see if I can make myself care about being recently separated or find some regret or trepidation in the back corners of my mind. If there were any hope, this song would have me ugly crying in catharsis. It is profoundly devastating and beautiful.
I feel nothing. I have concluded that I am dead inside! Awesome.
This is not to say there is any acrimony between us. Don't take this as a "that bitch" situation. We're friends, we just don't love each other and cannot stand to be around each other right now. She's a miserable, strung out, overworked mess, and I can't fix it, and when I try, she gets pissed at me.
Also we fight about laundry and house work an absurd amount. It's like WWIII. That's actually what got me kicked out. One day, she actually decided to do some laundry (which is exclusively my burden to bear), and I wanted her to hold off on folding her clothes in my area for one minute because I was on a roll sweeping that area of the room and I wanted to finish strong.
She immediately left the house and didn't talk to me for two hours. 5 days and 1200 miles later, I'm living with my parents again!
Dead inside, paradoxically, makes me very happy, which sounds impossible. My psychiatrist is a noble soul, and my apologies to him.