I don't want to miss him. I don't want my energy going there. I do not want to spend another dime in therapy talking about him. Yet my mind seems to wander back to the good memories- like the slow dances in candlelight, the times we lay just gazing into each other's eyes, the beautiful poetry he wrote me, the foreign streets we wandered through holding hands, the time he said to me "What you say and how you feel are important to me." I miss those times, and I'm sad they are no longer between us. I in turn self-flagellate, thinking, "if only I hadn't been such a _____ on chemo/steroids, if only I hadn't acted ____under all that fear from my cancer diagnosis, we'd still be together!" I'm exasperated with my cancer; it's changed my life in so many ways, and it's changed me. I get angry that he kicked me to the curb just a couple of weeks after my mastectomy. I wish he hadn't judged me and our relationship based on the way it had been the months while I was under the grips of cancer. I keep wondering how it would have been if only cancer hadn't gotten in the way. I've heard cancer can make or break relationships, ours is counted in that statistic; cancer shredded our relationship to pieces. FUCK YOU, cancer, you've changed so much in my life.