I heard a line in a movie recently that said "we get the love we think we deserve." I believe that. During our time I deserved you. Trapped in the prison of my own caging. I was escaping a yesterday I knew I wouldn't survive if I didn't flee. Then I found you, again. A friendship reconnection I deemed safe enough to hold me. Safe enough for me to be still in. Not worry about my back. That's the cliche right? I was so worried about my back I let the lies right to my face go by. I deserved the way you made me laugh. I collapsed laughter and sex with loyalty and love but they were never the same.
I wanted it to be your fault I stayed so long but it was me. I ignored the red flags all on my own. But I deserved you remember? Like a guilty magnet holding my own bag of wrongs you became my karma for every left I ever turned. So I stayed. Stuck it out. Hoped you would change. Hoped I would too. We were both liars. We pretended our whatever we had could be any other way with everything I knew about you, about me.
In a way you are lucky. I wholeheartedly believe that you are the psychopath I joked you were. And we know what jokes are, don't we? We don't want to believe that they are our true thoughts coming out afraid trapping themselves in a cloak of giggle we create. But they are. It must be easy to not feel. To lie, straight faced and effortless without regard for another human being. To put people's lives at such risk the way you did. After all this time there are still feelings I haven't expressed.
You are my past. I'm clear about that. I'm not lingering there. I am just finally cleaning out cobwebs and crevices, rodent droppings and mold particles I dusted under rug. I honored myself for being away from you. I thought that was enough, but it wasn't. There was still work left to be done. It's time now. The time is always now. Isn't that funny?
Because I forgive myself I finally forgive you too. For everything. Before though I thought forgiveness was a wand I could wave. A word I could hocus pocus. But it's not. Forgiveness requires an ouch, an acknowledgement of stepped on toe. But I tried to act like nothing happened. And there was so much something. That happened. All of this is lost on you, I believe. Maybe none of this is an it you are capable of feeling. And that's ok. Because this is not about you. It's about my healing. My moving on. My cleaning house.
There is more to do. But this is a start. A load in the dumpster. Space available now for me to move and twist and plant something new.
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