I gave it everything.

I changed myself for you, rearranged my time, rearranged my life, I cared and empathised, compromised and sacrificed so many pieces of me; but we both knew the end was inevitable, unavoidable, fateful. It was a time of mutual exploitation – you didn’t feel so alone and I had something to help me feel alive. I can’t be mad, how can I be mad? I have no right to be mad. And I am not – I can finally say the anger has cleared out of me, it evaporated with other pains, other pains I needed to feel, to help me realise that you can never ever be a part of my life again.

The greatest irony is that you never wanted to be; I was the one who broke all the rules and probably gave you no choice, I made you jump aboard, set us up for assured mutual self-destruction – except we didn’t quite destruct, we made it out, you with him and I with my dignity all tattered but still intact. I hope you are happy, or at least happier than you were with me. I can’t say I’m all bliss, but I’m under construction, no longer undone, finally moving on.


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