20 years and I still think of you. I’m not sure why. You’ve done some pretty despicable things to me and you don’t deserve a second of my time, but you’re like a damn disease. I sometimes find myself googling you. Hell, I sometimes even find myself verbalizing your name when I’m alone and thinking of frustrating situations. Yeah, you messed me up good. But I’ll be damned before I let you know how much you have control over my thoughts 20 years later.
Even as broken as I am, someone loves me. I guess it’s true what I’ve said all along: love is a choice. If it wasn’t, there is no doubt I’d still be alone.
Secretly, I wish you nothing but the pain you caused me. I wish you nothing but the torment I have in my head every day. I secretly rejoice when I see you have posted something about how you’re having a hard time in your marriage. I want you to know, mine is doing well in the very “old fashioned” philosophies you rejected from a 20 something “old man.”