Further thanks for kind messages.

Further thanks for kind messages. There are some kind and generous people out there, including “real” friends, “virtual” friends and people I’ve never heard from before.
One or two people, including at least one of my “real” friends, have questioned the wisdom of relating the whole thing on my blog. I guess they are wondering who I hope will read it. Well, I guess I’ve written it as much for myself as anyone – it has been a cathartic exercise, and has helped me build a better picture in my mind of what has happened (although whether that has helped is a matter for conjecture). I suppose I also think that the people involved and my friends will read it too. One of the reasons for that is that I find it easier to write down what I really feel than to say it – I’m just a bit emotionally damaged at the moment, and I’m frightened that what comes out of my mouth may not be what is in my heart and mind. The long post I wrote yesterday took me nearly two hours to compile – I wrote bits, deleted them, read it through umpteen times, re-edited it, re-read it – over and over and over. I even thought about deleting the whole thing, and writing something about the weather, or posting a few links to Romania stories on Ananova. But I’m sure that what I wrote there is what I truly feel, hurtful as parts of it may seem.
Other people have said that time will heal. Well, I guess that can be true, but scars sometimes linger. I think back to the last time that someone I really loved broke up with me (and I didn’t love her anything like as much as I love Andrea), even though that is now nearly four years ago, the scars are still there. This time the wounds are deeper and have been inflicted twice over. One or two people have written to tell me of similar experiences in their lives – I know I am not unique. I guess that helps, but I’m not yet sure how.
There is nothing that I have written here that Andrea did not already know – including my feelings about Kev. If I learnt anything about Andrea in the time we were together, it is that me saying anything that is intended to deter her from her chosen path will serve only to make her more determined to follow that path. So I will not add anything more to what I have already said in Grayblog, which is no more than I said to her face. My love for her is such that I can only wish that she finds what she is looking for – I certainly do not wish her anything bad, and I hope that she will be happy.
And, of course, I do wish for her back. I miss her so very much. I won’t bore my poor readers with the little things that I miss – they even include her used teabags on my kitchen worktops, and the toilet lid always left open. But above all, I miss her in the mornings.
And, yes, I think maybe I should have seen this coming. They say that love can be blind, meaning we don’t see the other’s imperfections. I knew Andrea’s imperfections, and loved her just the same. But it also means that we are sometimes blind to what is happening. I guess that is why all of this is such a shock to me – I was blind, I didn’t see it coming.
Where I go from here, I’m not quite sure. New beginnings do seem a good plan. My cousin offered to give me a weekend break in London, which I’m going to take her up on. She thinks I need a fresh start. Other friends, especially DAGS, are determined to get me back on my feet and functioning again. Sometimes I feel ready for that – at other moments, I just want to curl up and hide with my sadness.
One thing I have to do is begin to focus on work again – I have done hardly a single productive thing since last Thursday, and whilst my parents will tolerate my inactivity for a while, there is a limit. It’s a family business after all, and we all rely on it to a greater or lesser degree. At least being busy may stop me thinking so damned much.