Today I sat beside a stranger as we signed our “release” papers. The stranger was no stranger really, but it felt like it. I’m glad he didn’t cry, I did, for both later. 17 years of a life done with and almost forgotten.
I cried because this act of signing the first set of divorce papers made me feel guilty for not having tried and given it my all, for not having loved him better, for failing miserably at making him happy. In sum, for sucking at marriage.
We both agreed this was what we wanted, but nevertheless, it’s sad. It’s a breakup. It’s leaving behind a whole chapter, a chunk of your life and identity. Because when you are with someone for so long, a part of you goes missing.
As I made my way back home feeling defeated, I kept repeating to myself, just like those tunes, you cannot get rid of: “I’m sorry, so sorry…”