JUST NOT ENOUGH

When you finally screw up the courage to call her, to find out how she is and to let her know that you care, that you still love her, that she remains the center of your life, she lets you know that she can have no more contact with you. A relationship with you is part of her past and she is moving forward.
Without you.
It is like a punch to the gut, this news. You sensed things were strained, were difficult, but you assumed the two of you would find a way, your love would survive. Now, in the space of mere seconds, before your mind can respond with anything more than a stunned, deadpan "okay," she has turned your world dark. As in scary dark. Frightening dark. Imposing dark. I-can't-see-where-I-am-going dark.
Before the phone call ends, before you even realize that you have not told her half of what you wanted to say, you tell her that all you want is the very best for her.
And then, in the click, she is gone. Forever.
You had hoped against all hope that you would be the very best for her.  Apparently she doesn't think so.
As your rattled mind and aching heart struggle to grasp the news, deal with this turn of events, emotions ebb into a deep sadness and a yearning for death. The end, after all, seems so welcoming once there is no reason to go on living. It would be far easier to be dead than to spend another second on this planet knowing there will be no future with her. You consider ways in which to hasten the end. You could drive into a bridge abutment (you don't want to hurt someone else on the way out), except there are none on your drive home from work. You could swerve into traffic once you're back on your bike. That would be effective, so you give it serious consideration. Maybe you could just find a very dangerous job and get hired to do it. Photographer in a war zone. Digging up land mines. Something like that.
Mostly, though, you just want to run away, to be anywhere but here. Here there are far too many reminders of what you had with her, her existence, her reality. The loss hits you everywhere you turn. Here is where we shared a first kiss. Here is where you first held her. Here is where you used to meet. There's the bar where you shared drinks. Under this bridge she once stopped you, just to give you a kiss. She couldn't wait. Bittersweet reminders assault you from every corner of this place. Better to leave and start over somewhere else, where no one knows you and you know no one and nothing. Where everything will be fresh and new.
But you can't do that overnight, so eventually the hurt and the sadness and the loss holds you awake, giving you the yin to the yang of the night when she first told you that she cared for you. This night is its bookend. Where one kept you awake riding on a wave of happiness and disbelief, this one keeps you awake with the dull ache of a broken heart and the gnawing chasm of emptiness within. When sleep finally does come it is fitful and offers no real rest.
When you awaken, the reality of what happened remains and it follows you around wherever you go. Eventually the hurt forms itself into words, words you now want to share with her, so she can read just how much she has wounded you. So you write them down, thinking to leave them somewhere she can find them, so she will realize how deeply she hurt you.
This is all her fault, you tell your heart. She was incapable of loving or of being loved. That's what was wrong.
You're only fooling yourself. The truth is harsher and harder than that. The truth is you were not enough for her -- not enough of a man, not enough of a friend, not enough of a listener, not enough of a lover, not important enough, not vital enough, not young enough, not smart enough, not gentle enough, not kind enough, not spontaneous enough, not creative enough, not supportive enough, not sensitive enough, not wise enough, not there enough, not accessible enough. You just were not enough.
Because if you were enough, if you were important, and vital, and smart, and gentle, and kind, and spontaneous, and supportive, and sensitive, and wise, and accessible and everything else she needed and wanted in a man, she would not be able to walk away from you. She would put you and the relationship first. And the two of you still would be together, somehow.
But you were none of the things she needed, regardless of how she was when the two of you were together. You were fun while it lasted, exciting for a while, enough for the moment, okay for  now. You were not enough, though, to stick with forever, to risk the future on, to choose to be with today and all the rest of your shared tomorrows.
So as your heart aches, as your guts remain tied in knots, as the siren's song of death calls to you, don't blame her. This is not her fault, nor is it her problem. The problem simply is you.
You were not enough.