The home straight

3 Jul

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Today, dear buddies, marks 11 months since the pizza of doom.

One more to go ’til the doomaversary.

I don’t know why the timings feel so significant to me. They have since the start of this painful adventure.

I’ve counted days. It was 55 days until the first day that I didn’t cry. It was 100 days until I went on holiday and cried every day.

I’ve counted weeks. It was five until I started my new job. It was six until I went to my friend’s wedding and cried because he wasn’t there. It was ten until I realised he wasn’t going to change his mind.

And I’ve counted months. Ticking them off, feeling strangely gleeful as they stacked up and put more and more distance between me and him.

What I haven’t yet had the chance to count is the years. But soon – yes, very soon – I can add that to the list.

That makes me feel like I’m on the home straight, racing towards putting this year behind me. And not looking back.

 

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