Brian.  I don't even know how this ends...  When Brian first asked me out I wasn't sure if it even had anything to do with me, or if it was to detract the guy who was all over him.  When we went out again the night after that first, awkward date I didn't want to let my guard down because I honestly believed at the time that trust would most likely lead to another heartbreak.  And for the first week we went out I told myself to strip away feelings, to doubt, to hold back.  But then, somewhere after we'd been intimate and after he'd apologized to me for breaking a promise we hadn't even made to each other and securing my forgiveness, I started to think maybe it would be okay.  I was truly happy with him-- I knew that we were two different people, but I saw that as a strength rather than an obstacle, even when those differences intimidated me a little.  At three weeks, it's true, I had a panic attack-- I thought history was about to repeat itself and that he would dump me just as "J" had.  But we made up, we said to each other that we wanted to move past it and try to make our relationship work.  And that's when I started to be glad that I was falling in love-- it scared me a little, it made the world seem big and amazing again and full of uncertain promise.  It made me reflect on past injuries and think that they had led me to this, primed me to finally appreciate something really good.  I was about to tell him all of this.  And then he said that he thought we should stop seeing each other.  He said that there was no one else but that he didn't think we were right for each other, that we weren't meant to be.  He told me that it was indeed unfair that I didn't have a say in the matter-- but that he'd wanted to do it sooner rather than later, before I could get "too attached."  24 hours after I finally felt brave enough to say I loved him-- and I know I do because being without him wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't-- he confirmed that it wasn't enough.  It's never been enough and it never will be.  Every time I believed otherwise, I inevitably erected another wall to the dark box that I find myself trapped in now.  My life's become a trap of memories that I can't face, or escape, or run from, because it's all around me.  And it makes me long for the days when, however briefly, I felt young.  Before I knew how much hurt could pour out over me when I opened a door that I thought led to happiness.  Now, when I dare to let go of the numbness, all I can feel is that I really am alone.  Without meaning to, the world has told me pretty bluntly that happiness is fleeting and loneliness is home base.  I can't help but wonder how I earned this feeling or why it had to come when, biologically speaking, I've got more days ahead than do behind, and make me feel so... old.  And I don't even want to be comforted.  I don't want to heal, or forget, or feel better.  Ever.  Because then I'll let my guard down, I'll be vulnerable again, and I'll pay the price.  If I stop hurting, even for a moment, then I invite the next failure.  If I let anyone convince me that things will get better, I think that I will inevitably resent them for helping to disarm me.  
I'm afraid Brian's the last person I'll dare to love.  I'm more afraid that, though he didn't mean to hurt me, part of me will hate him for being the last in a line of messengers.  Most of all I'm afraid that I'll never escape him and I'll never be able to see him again without that collision of love and hate spawning some sort of parity error in my skull.  I'm afraid that he will never come back, realizing that he gave up on someone who would do anything in their power to protect him from harm and pain, or admitting that he'd had some reason-- in my best interests or otherwise-- but that didn't cut it anymore.  I'm afraid that he will come back and that I won't be able to trust him again.  I wish that I could want to turn back the clock and stop myself from falling for him, but as much as it hurts now it's time I don't want to get back.  I wish he'd never left, and I even wish that he'd lied to me-- told me he hated me or that there was someone else or that he was moving away so that I could make a clean break.  I curse myself for wanting someone who doesn't love me in return, and for knowing that it's the template for my life.  No one should ever have to live with these thoughts.  No one should live in this much fear and yet be too afraid to put a final end to it.  No one should be so damned as to know that they'll die and live feeling so alone.