dangers of digging

I know people think I bring it on myself. That I choose to not let go. Sometimes, I wonder if they are right. However, today has been so great! I actually had a real work out, worked on editing the book and posted more to the blog for potential feedback, sang and sang to Glee with the windows down. All in all I realized that I was pretty happy and content. I called my brother and asked if he wanted to get together before we meet for sushi tonight to redeem the pottery painting certificate he gave me for my birthday or Christmas, I don’t remember. I was in such a good mood, I wanted to paint. Since I’m so very organized, I had to dig through three or four different drawers to find it. It took so many that I’d decided I’d lost it (not something I wanted to tell my brother). In my search, through my underwear drawer (I throw bills and such any place except where I can see them), I found two different letters from hwmnbn. I don’t even remember getting them, let alone saving them. They were from two completely different times. I thought I’d gotten rid of all the things he’d written me. Both of them talked explicitly about how he wanted to spend his life with me. How he planned on marrying me. How he knew we’d have our ups and down, and how we’d fall in and out of love. How he was in it for the long run. How he’d never before loved anyone like he loved me, never knew he could feel so safe with someone as he did in my arms. How he promised he never leave. Of course, I was in tears by the end. It hurt so much to see those letters. All the broken promises. However, it was validating. I’d begun to wonder if I’d made it all up. Misconstrued things he’d said, pushing my own meaning onto his actions. That’d I’d just been too blind to see that he never really loved me, never really wanted me. That he’d never really promised forever, that I’d just heard what I wanted to hear. I didn’t. He really did say those things, and I guess, meant them. At the time. These letters weren’t from early on when he would have been speaking out of rose-colored glasses either. I’m glad to know I wasn’t as crazy as I’d begun to think and that I didn’t imagine his love. However, I really don’t understand. I don’t know how you choose to love and commit to someone and then choose not to. I know it’s common, and I wish I that I had it in me honestly, life would be easier. I just don’t know how to do it.