Because talking to you is making me sad.

Last year, we were standing in our work parking lot, talking for over an hour after our shifts had ended. “I like talking to you.” / “I like talking to you too.” Now he never parks in that parking lot. He hasn’t for months. Today, we had lunch at the same time, and when he tried to talk to me, I couldn’t hide behind my wall. He asked me what was wrong, why I was starting to cry. I waved my hands. “Talking to you is making me sad.”

On our first date, we sat in his car and he asked me how I felt about PDA. At lunch, as has always been the case and I’ve told him so, I looked at him more than he looked at me. He tried to ask me about my life. I tried not to answer. He announced he’s going to our bi-annual-ish work party. Last time, I had to beg him to come, and he told me he was not going to the next one.

I try not to think about how suddenly he’s doing all the things I like to do, all the things I wanted us to do together, without me. He said he wants to know himself better. He said he liked how because of me, he left his apartment more. I guess I can’t fault him for acting on the reason for our breakup.

I am trying not to internalize the fact that no one ever wants me enough.

He told me it was “refreshing” that we didn’t fight, even at the end. What else was I supposed to do?

I said I wouldn’t immortalize us. I promise I linger minimally and only in short gusts. I wanted to use the word breeze, but today when I climbed into my car I choked out tears for a minute.

I did linger for a moment after work to see him, even though it made me sad and even though I had asked him “What’s the point?” at lunch.

I wish I could talk to him or about him without crying—always a big crybaby and especially compared to him.

I’m mostly sad he now makes me sad.