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
I felt more like a witness than a participant
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:
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
fulfilling my dreams, though I did nothing for them,
and I knew I was doing
yet I chose
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
And embrace my
And so I did.
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