The internal conflicts of Issac Indigo

"I'm not sure if I'm coming with you Issac."
"I don't know if I understand..."
I sat across from my girlfriend of eight months. I had started talking to her about plans to move us into a better place, and then this. She won't make eye contact with me, not the best sign.
"It's just..."
I reached out to hold her hand as she sits across from me, but she pulled her hand away. Another bad sign.
"There's someone else, Issac. And I just don't want this anymore."
"Me."
"What?"
"You meant to say you don't want me anymore."
She began to explain how she wasn't leaving me, she was always going to be there for me. Just not at as my girlfriend. As for me, I was somewhere else, cowering in a corner from the pain I knew was sure to come. I guess when people say they are beside themselves, this feeling is what they are eluding to. I heard every word she said, but none of it mattered to me. It was like background noise to silence. She stopped talking and started trying to look into my eyes. Now I avoided eye contact, because I knew she would see that I was hurt. I had to get out.
"I get it." I said as I got off the couch. I started walking to the door of our apartment.
"You don't want to talk about us?" She asked.
It was a question I had more difficulty answering than one might think. I had so much I wanted to say. How when we were together, I forgot everything else, but not in that stupid cliche way that most people say they do. She was an escape, a safety net I could always rely on to take me away from the horrors of my reality. Maybe if she understood how much she meant to me, she would realize how much love was between us.
"No, Keep the place."
But Lexi said herself, there was someone else that made her feel better than what she felt with me. I looked her in the eyes one last time before I left and she looked back. There was something in her eyes. Not pain, regret, joy, relief, or even uncertainty. Any of those would have been a welcome severance. But what I saw hurt me more than anything she could have said or done. Sympathy. She felt sorry for me because she knew she hurt me.
Early in our relationship, I always told her she was whittling away the stone around my heart. She would giggle and run her hands through my hair. Of course, I wasn't being serious. Letting anyone mean more than anyone else was foolish. People, die, get sick, change. Giving people too much importance in life was begging for heartbreak eventually, in one form or another. But as things moved forward, I began to realize that I began to love her, if such a word even has meaning in real life. Now, I know your probably asking yourself, "Why?". Honestly, because she made me feel better than I had ever felt in my life. and I didn't want it to end.
I started walking down the street, but not really walking. My body was stuck in the command of move away, while my heart was still sitting on the couch, and my mind was still trying to figure out why I let her keep the apartment.
"Walk...Walk...Walk...Walk..."
"I love you Lexi, why, why would you want anyone else? Just tell me what you want me to do, tell me what you want me to change baby and...and I'll change it."
"She better not expect me to pay this month's rent because given the circumstances I would say that is simply out of the question."

So it felt more like drifting really, as if my body was being taken to sea. A natural response for me is to disconect when hurt, damaged, or in conflict. So I disconected from life, self, and existence. If only for a few moments, I let the sorrow consume me. For the time being, it felt good.