Nearly two months fully into new year, just past Valentines..thank you..I got 2 very nice texts from old lovers..I had a visit from my girl with a gift for me..for my pain, the crap I live with daily..yet the time she spent talking to me was more valuable to me than the gift. My hubby, who I left a card and candy for he would find when he woke, well..got a email from him when the day was nearly over saying thanks. He did come home with Ice cream and cherries. Somewhat redeemed..I don’t like the gift exchange thing anymore..it is just so expected and would rather be surprised..I don’t like birthdays anymore, Christmas..Anniversaries..well they suck because it is a reminder that I fucked up and yet we still move on like a pretend life..like we are trying but not enough, that it might work, but maybe not..Always unsettled, always in limbo.

Seeing her on a different level where I am not a fucking mental case over it, have cleared my head, made my choices..of course those choices are to leave the place where I have been hiding, the place of remembrance, the place where the scene of the crime happened. The tragic love story of two people who took a leap of faith and started a new life only to have one of them (namely me) fuck it all up and destroy the other ones dreams. I will pay for that even once gone.  I have been content in fact that I will move on and be in a new place, find my own way, yet still alongside him, my friend now. Trying to regain the friendship is much easier than rebuilding intimacies.  Being away from so many reminders of what I cannot have, what is not mine, but belongs to another. Away from a place of shame and fear and judgement.  Leaving her is tearing my heart open and letting it bleed out. I stand strong in this choice until I look into her now teary eyes, her saying I am killing her by leaving, her crying harder than I have ever witnessed. But to listen to my heart and stay in a place where she wants me but is not willing to give up her fucked up existence to be free. She chooses to live in fear, to live with hers and be ashamed, to live lies. I can no longer be here, the toy she plays with when she feels like. She is strong, she will be fine. She has her work, her kids. All her promises to me are like magical lyrics to a mythological song. A song she sings to herself to feel good. I cannot wait for that song to become real. I am not waiting.

 

 

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