Not. Mine.

These are just a few of the million words I wish I had the nerve to say. Go go gadget passive-aggressiveness!

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You have not been mine in a long time. I have no claim on you. I have no say in what you do or where you go. Though, really, I never did. I’m no longer even privy to such information. I hate you for leaving me behind. I admire you for starting over on your own. Most days, you don’t even cross my mind. On the days that you do, I often become a train wreck, emotional baggage strewn over the tracks. Memories I had thought lost bubble to the surface of my consciousness. So why, if you no longer belong to me, do I still refer to you as mine? Is it a deep-seeded, if not primarily subconscious, way of telling myself I want you back? No. I refuse to travel down that road again. You are not mine. Perhaps you never were.

Somedays I wish I could erase you from my mind all together. Then I wouldn’t have to suffer through such bittersweet reminders of who we used to be. You helped make me who I am today, and I, you. I’m sure you never told her that. Told her how you were before. You took credit for the person you are, never once mentioning the one who helped you learn when to push people away and when to let them in. It surprises me how much that bothers me. You taught me too, and I have never once tried to deny that. Perhaps that is the great difference between the two of us. The reason we didn’t work. Why does she get to enjoy someone I struggled with for years?


1.18.10 3:05am