writing as processing

I want to write you away. pour the poison out through my finger tips. type away my sorrow. dead mom was too big for me to express, but this break-up is just the right size to feel. it's just the right size to immediately hurt.
dead mom left me in shock, like a broken bone. shiny's like a paper cut. initial numbness followed by pain that seems too big for the size of the wound. a clean cut. swift blood.
and when I see the looks of sympathy, I say, "I got dumped yesterday" and people are outraged. there is no good time to get broken up with, it's true, but there are definitely times that suck less than others. I am so hurt, and I miss him, but I haven't tried to contact him.
this is new to me.
in the past, with every single break up, no matter who initiated it, I have tried to talk and talk and talk to the person. I just don't see the point this time.
What amazes me about the past month [the death of my mom, my brother ceasing communication, and shiny leaving me] is that I still have not been as broken up as I was when dru died and ex-otter left me. however, I think that that situation gave me callouses that are now allowing me to survive the shit I'm wading through now. if I hadn't had to go through that hell, then I think right now I would be drowning or dead.
more than anything right now, I am hurt. I feel like I was finally doing things in what I perceived to be the "right" way, and I still got fucked. maybe that's why I don't have anything to say this time; I've already said it all to him, as it happened. finally.

headache.
I would have done anything for him, if he had just asked.
the problem is that he never gave me the chance.
like so many others, and like I used to do, he waited until it was too late.

and all my communication? what did it do? nothing except clear my conscience of blame.

I can write about this. I still can't write about my mom.

this is going to be such a long fucking road to walk alone.