Nursing my wounds

I've been avoiding writing about my breakup with The Nurse. First, because I know that she sometimes reads this blog, but mostly because the pain of it all has been locked deep away inside of me. I haven't cried about it, since we broke up a month-and-a-half-ago. I've tried not to feel much at all. And I don't want to bash her, or the relationship here -- I just need a safe space to feel something. I'm still in such a haze about it all -- really, I went into complete survival mode. I'm not going to rehash any of the details....just accept that I'm starting to tap into the deep pain of losing the girl that I had hoped to marry, of wasting 4 1/2 years of my life on someone who didn't love me, and that although we spent the better part of a year in an agonizing stalemate, in the end it felt like she let me go with effortless ease and abandonment. I wish I could run to the ends of the earth and deposit myself safely in hermitage alone where I could deal with all that is swirling in my heart. It's going to take me a long time to heal this. I still think of her when I wake and when I go to bed -- even though I know she has already replaced me in her life. It doesn't comfort me to know that her friends called me "the best" that she had dated, because I know her pattern, and I know my own. I can't look back for her -- who has utterly destroyed my heart in such a way. I wasn't "the one," wasn't good enough. I've got to learn to be good enough for just myself and love myself anyway. Never has this animasola felt the conscious weight of her chains and chosen to hold on tight to them. Purgatorio. But why? Why can't I just let it go? How long must I torment myself over this?