I had to tear apart my house looking for old documents I needed. The problem with this was finding odds and ends in places I didn't expect them to be. An old black and white picture printed on regular printer paper crammed inbetween different folders. Old emails I printed out 7 years ago. Pictures taken and kept hidden from the world for fear of discovery.
Clandestine affairs are doomed from the beginning, no matter how sure you are that yours is different, that you are different, that he is different. You're wrong. You're not different. He's the same as all the other liars in history. You can only hold on to the fairy tale for so long, before your glass castle is shattered, and you realize the foundation you were so sure of was made of nothing but paper mache, and soon the life you thought you had is unrecognizable.
You realize you lost your best friend.
And like an earth quake or other disaster, you have no idea how it happened. You didn't listen to the scientists when they told you you were on shaky ground.
After you're nearly done with the clean up and restoration, bam, you're hit with the after shocks.
I thought I was nearly back to myself, to a point where I could value myself when no one else would. A point where I could hold my face to the sun and enjoy the heat on my skin, where I could put my bare legs on a soft sheet and be comfortable sleeping alone. A place where I could take a deep breath and know that I'm going to be alright. But the rug was pulled visciously out from under my feet when I wasn't expecting it.
I feel as if I'll never be whole again. This void will be with me for as long as I'm still breathing.