So he breaks up with you. You go through the process of trying to pick up all your broken pieces. You cry, you get ridiculously mad, you feel indifferent. You get almost 2 months in and you think, maybe I'm good? Maybe I'm ok?
And then you start thinking about all the things he said and all the things you said and about how stupid you both were to think you would ever get back together. Or that you'd ever be friends. And it makes you wonder if he knew this was the real end and you were the only one living in the delusion that "maybe a break is all you both need."
Here's the reality: he doesn't try to contact you. It means he doesn't want to talk to you. It means you're not getting back together. It means it's time to really move on. It's time to stop wishing he was the one you were with on every date you go on. Time to stop comparing every hug to his hug (they will never measure up).
And don't take it personally. For your own sake, assume he misses you, even if he doesn't try to talk to you. Assume that what you had meant something, even if sometimes it feels like it doesn't. Assume you really were his best friend. Assume it wasn't because you weren't good enough, but because you weren't the best for each other. Assume he loved you as much as he said he did.
Letting go is awfully difficult. And I'm done trying to force it. I guess it's just something that has to happen in its own time. I have to remember that God has a plan much bigger than my own. I've just got to roll with it.