How about you?
I love myself
Normally both parties have claim to everything that was accumulated during the course of a marriage in a community property state. Normally. If you really wanted you could find plentiful legal indicators that suggest that I gave a lot and “stole” zero.
Fuck you for telling me to consult my ex about where I should live.
You dream of her, have for several years, but are too scared to tell.
I keep hearing you speak morse code, but I am sure I am wrong.
It is just my yearning, to be the girl you dream of.
Oh how I ache for the nights spent as you as my universe
Clearly you have always been the centerfold.
goodnight dear void
how about you?
I burry myself in work
i wish i’d stop thinking about you every day. it’s really lame to still have to wonder why you did what you did. it’s even worse to think about how you did actually love me. it was so long ago. it happened months before i even found out, i mean there’s no way something didn’t happen in that time frame. now i’m confused and lost. i don’t know if i belong where i am now.
It took me awhile plus one night’s sleep to come around to the fact that you don’t deserve my anger after all. What you deserve is to be forgiven so that I can let go and forget. I think I’ve been imagining that finding new happiness would just kind of “take care” of that problem. But feeling wonderful about all of the things to which I’ve moved on has not eradicated the way I’d been left to feel about you; and none of those feelings have felt good for a long time now.
I think forgiveness mostly takes time, but there is an active component of letting go once you’re just about “there.” I think I’ve reached that point now. I hope I have. I will meditate when the mind decides that anything with regard to you, or this, needs to be recalled. In due time it will be forgotten. And then I’ll probably remember the situation quite differently.
But in my current state of “not yet there” with forgiveness, I rather pettily want to be clear about something. I haven’t “loved” you for two years now; and all I wanted was to be friends. Real friends. Not imaginary friends. The kind of friends who text to wish each other well and say things like “I’m sorry for your loss.” Maybe it was a lot to expect? It’s hard to feel like you’re being eaten alive by your own isolation when the friends you chose stopped choosing you. But nothing about that makes your behavior wrong, so I will stop believing that, and hopefully that is the path to forgiveness.
Also, I know what forgiveness is. I don’t care whether you want it, or whatever, because it’s not something I’m giving to you. It is not a bargaining chip; It’s for me. My anger, my problem.
And on that note, it (finally) doesn’t even matter if you read this.
Fare thee well.
Come rest your bones next to me
And make our laugh lines
I will tell you
our souls are very old friends
Your smile, when shattered
Is why I kiss you deeper.
I have seen a thousand,
mind fumbling views all
From the God gently tucked away
inside your eyes.
Stay here awhile with me,
in our safe space.
Let us let our wrinkles
Become aged old testaments
Of our forever binding love.