He wants to get married... just not to me

... and that pretty much sums up my last relationship.

I am good enough to date for nearly two years but nowhere near good enough to make an honest woman of. And the reason? The taboo that is religion. Makes me think that maybe atheists have the right idea, and that religion is in fact the root of all evil. I personally hold religion wholly responsible and accountable for my current emotional misery, and if it were a distinct company or organisation I would most certainly sue it for mental anguish and distress.

Religion: different paths that lead to the same God. Each path is like a different social club, each with its different set of rules and regulations, abide and you have a membership for life, each social club competing against the others to increase its membership population - is it about values and beliefs or has it just become a popularity contest like 'Facebook'? Why can't we embrace our similarities instead of pointing out our differences? Why is it so difficult to comprehend that before any other race we are primarily the human race?

It has been almost four months since he abruptly brought about an apocalypse to my world, yanked my head from out of the clouds - I was gliding on a kaleidoscopic kite until he maliciously cut the string and sent me tumbling back to reality. And now he is with another, somebody who he has only known for a matter of a few weeks yet is ready to spend his entire lifetime with - he will brush her windswept hair from her face tenderly with his fingertips, he will wrap his arms affectionately around her like a blanket, call her the most gorgeous and perfect woman in the world just like he used to once upon a time to me. Oh how he fed me lies and how I just obediently swallowed them.

I wonder if she is prettier than me? Or slimmer? Can she love him more than I did? Despite all his faults and flaws I loved him with every single fibre of my being, to me he was more than enough but now I realise that to him I was absolutely nowhere near enough, I just failed to hit the mark. Sometimes you can love someone so much only for them to throw it back in your face, sometimes you can love someone so much but it's just not enough. He has me, the eternal romantic, ironically pondering whether love is in fact enough. I guess sometimes it's just not. It feels like he made a mockery of my love, I can hear cruel laughter echoing in the emptiness. I was blind, I realise now that he was never content, forever reluctant and doubtful, he always kept me at arm's length, refused to let me in.

I wonder, does he think of me? Can he move on that quick? Can he lock away his feelings in a wooden chest, propel it deep in the sea, sealed and buried forever, never to be found again? Will he ever regret his decision? Will he be haunted by memories of me? Or will I just pale into insignificance? One day when he is old and haggard swaying in his rocking chair in a retirement home somewhere, will his thoughts settle on a girl he once moulded dreams with in the most romantic city in the world, whilst they walked hand in hand with eyes only for each other like everything else ceased to exist?

I know the pain will subside. I know there's somebody else out there who needs my love more than him, who deserves my love more than him but until then this affliction is like a splinter - you think it's gone this time but then it starts to hurt again just to remind you that it's still there. Even if it's faint, it's still there.