My Side of Things

It seems so long ago that we were together.

It feels almost unreal.

Yet sometimes it feels very real. 

Curious how perspective changes time and space.

It took a while for the anger inside me to burst forth.

No, I wasn’t angry about the breakup;

it wasn’t the most graceful of breakups

(you avoiding me, us breaking up on the phone),

but you wanted out, and that isn't something I can hold against you. 

Yes, I was in great pain,

but that was my choice.

My anger came from a different place:

remembering how you treated me while we were together,

how your initial intense interest

turned into a confusing mixture of affection and distance,

which gradually formed into

Coldness.

Indifference.

Evasion.

I felt more like a witness than a participant

with you.

Mostly listening,

less and less being listened to.

I slowly disappeared though I was physically there.

And when it finally burst forth, my anger

was venomous. I was consumed for days.

Until I understood:

it was mainly myself I was mad at;

it was me who failed to protect herself,

me who I needed to forgive.

Because I knew;

I knew from the start

all that I knew at the end.

But I chose:

Silence.

Blindness.

And this is my side of things:

long before we met, and for quite a while,

I was hiding in the safety of illusion.

I told myself I was

somehow

fulfilling my dreams, though I did nothing for them,

and I knew I was doing

nothing,

yet I chose

denial.

And then you came along,

to provide relief from self-dislike, to offer

a much-needed distraction

that made my illusion manageable.

Only it was a bubble destined to burst from the moment of its inception.

And sooner or later I had to face my

Fears.

And embrace my

Dreams.

Myself.

And so I did.