Paraphrased from something meaningful, but badly written I found around the net: Because when you have passion with a person, you create attraction, which is learned. The longer you spend time together in an affectionate way, the more you reinforce those emotions.

And because I’ve reached (finally?) the Jawbreaker-lyrics-are-so-meaningful-and-pertinent stage of the break up, from ‘Jet Black’: This is the cure, same as the symptom.  In which the symptom is Hawthorn leaving me, and the cure is leaving him.

No more “I wish I could quit you” moments.  I’ve set boundaries with Hawthorn (again), this time making him invisible from my social networks and asking him to not contact me outside work.  I’ve said that a casual lunch is fine on work day and we can talk about every day things, but that I’d like to do our best to remove all person closeness, intimacy and socialization outside of work from our current relationship.  I feel like I’m mourning this all over again for billionth time but I feel better about it.  I’m working on some sort of ritual removal of him from my life.  I don’t have letters to burn or anything but I’m discarding hundreds of saved emails, I’m deleting saved links of things to share with him and doing my best to engage myself with my friends so I have less time to wallow in my own head.  Wish me luck, it feels like jumping off a cliff.  But into a pool of cool water and not an endless crevasse.

Jet Black by Jawbreaker:

The song is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jn9Rk-Fb1hE

And the lyrics:

I’ll be quiet to keep you quiet.
Don’t concern yourself with my slow dying.
Through the vents I hear you sigh.
I don’t get too high these days.
Your floor is my ceiling.
Lights out, you can’t come in.
If you don’t remind me, I won’t forget you.
If you don’t ask, I won’t upset you.
I am jet black.
I am stone cold.
Jet black to the center.
Funny like a funeral.
I need you to bury me.
White noise in black room dust.
These hands long for one last touch.
Hourglass all out of trust.
I don’t scratch so I won’t itch.
I don’t reach so I won’t miss.
I taste our last kiss.
This is the cure: the same as the symptom.
Simple and pure: break to keep fixing.
Patiently nurse, patient and nurse.
This is the part I wouldn’t show you.
The part where you say, “I don’t even know you.”
This is your cue.
Be glad it’s through.

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