I mean obviously, that's normal. Time and space and healing and all of that. And I've since been involved with someone else. And that's got all its own complications and complexities and whatevers.
But it's actually kind of a funny feeling to look back and think and talk about something that happened to you that was so consuming and just ... sum it up as an experience and talk about it without emotional investment. Especially, I suppose after having been so emotionally invested in it for so long. And holding onto that investment too, even the pain and hurt and resentment - which is all you have in the end - because when you let go, well, then it's totally gone. Really and truly. But on the other hand, it *is* gone, and I'm *glad* it's gone and I'm glad that I've been able to let it go. And probably the me back in January would never have wanted to be here anyway. But we feel sorry for her and we send her tea and biscuits.
(Now I just have to get back the final piece of furniture that he has of mine and that will be the very end of it all. I just ... can't bring myself to have to go back in time to do it)