I don't know this feeling.
This fluttering in my stomach,
This anxiously awaiting a message,
This feeling of mutual respect
And care.

I don't know this feeling,
Being told not to feel bad
Or told not be embarrassed.
Being told that I am endearing,
Not insane.

Of someone looking forward
To speaking to me,
To seeing me,
Asking if it's okay
If they contact me as soon as they can.

Warning me that they'll be busy,
So they won't be able to respond a lot,
But that they'd still like to hear from me.

Because apparently I am
"Sweet and cute."
And "absolutely gorgeous"
And "completely awesome".

Because apparently I have a
"Good heart,"
However scarred I believe it to be.

My therapist says
You cannot go from loving someone
To disowning every memory of them
In two days.

My therapist says
I was in love with the memory of the person you were,
Not the angry monster you've become.

And even though I hate that I started falling out of love with you
Very rapidly
Mid February,
And I only gave you parts of me to convince myself otherwise,
And even though I hate that part of me will always love you,
I am so glad that I have grown to see your faults,
And that your funny-face selfies
Are not longer endearing,
But irritating.

Deleting your pictures off my phone
Was painful,
But once it was done,
The freedom was so good and pure.

I do not regret loving you.
But I do regret not being the one that left you,
Instead of you leaving me.

But you say
I am a monster,
And that is fine.
I am a hurricane of life
But monster is a nice word too.

And she says I was selfish,
I wish she'd look in a mirror.
She really needs to.

But he sees my worth,
My value
And likes seeing me.
Likes talking to me.
And it's not weird.
I don't feel the need to occupy all his time,
Because I don't feel like he'll drop me
The moment he finds someone "better".

I have so many things to tell you,
Most of which are how happy I am right now,
And the rest are telling you to *******.

I'll be sending you a package soon,
With your shirt and the ring attached to the necklace your mom gave me.
I'm giving the necklace back too.

There will be no letter.
No kind words.

Maybe a nickleback CD and a book on how to not be a ****.

But otherwise, nothing.

It is uncommon these days
To be satisfied and content with life.
Last night was the first night in a month that my insomnia got to me.
I was scared I'd wake up in a bad place when I finally slept.

I woke up, and after the nausea from the nightmares passed,
I received  a message from him.
And a simple apology and good morning and being told that I'm endearing,
Well it made me so much happier than you ever did.

Because there  was always some type of double meaning,
Some type of venom lacing your words.

He's upfront, and honest.
I don't quite understand how he makes me so happy.
Maybe it's because I finally like myself,
And he helps me figure out more ways to find good in me,
And you only ever made me see the bad in myself.

Your hollow apology for that goes unforgiven, by the way.

It is uncommon to be so much as satisfied
In this day and age.
Don't even get me started
On the rarity of the happiness
I'm feeling.

I forgave you in mid-June,
After you blocked me on
Whatever social media
You wanted to use.

I found out recently you took the photos of me
Off your other social media,
The one that was primarily pictures.

And it's fine, really.
It's easier to remember the people you hate,
Than the people you've hurt.
Purge me from your life,
Forget a year of living,
Whatever.

I just find it,
Ultimately, the most extreme
Form of cowardice
I have ever perceived.

Why take ownership
Of the sins you've committed
And seek a way to repent and change,
When you can just erase the memories
And continue on
As a vapid narcissist.

Have you told her you love her yet?
I hope she knows you're lying,
If you did.
Because you told me a week or two
Into our relationship,
And continued for a year.
All of it was either *******,
Or you're lying right now,
To everyone.

I'll break every promise I made,
Because you're all self serving,
And the majority of you are liars.
I'll tell you who told me about
All the lies and mistruths
You spoke before we ended
And after too.
Just like all the girls before me,
You got bored and decided
You'd be a crybully and end it as a victim.
You're a child, a spoiled child for that.
For doing this to me and everyone before me,
And probably everyone after,
Because you'll never be happy
With anyone who has free thought,
And doesn't want to be slave to your desires
And tantrums.

Can you guess who told me everything?
You used to hate them,
But they grew on you (with help from me)
And now they're marrying one of your best friends.
I hope that was clear enough for you,
You're a little dense.

Good thing she bailed too.

I can't wait for the moment when I can tell
Everyone every awful thing you did.

I forgave you,
In mid-June,
For every horrible thing you did
To me.
Whether it was in the beginning of "Us"
or the end,
And everything
In between.

Because there is no more
"Us".
Only your lies
And my memories.

The only thing I regret
From our time together,
Was that I wasn't the one who ended it.

Go ahead and twist the knife in my stomach.
I don't care anymore.
I hope it rusts in your hands,
And your callouses and blisters get infected.

I am not going down
Without a fight.

You have your lies!
I have my memories.
Who's the coward here?

I forgave you
In mid-June.

You always thought it was
Attention, money,
Financial stability.
A solid job,
Whether you like the work or not.

I thought it was good friends,
Love, happiness,
Feeling safe,
Doing what you're passionate about,
No matter what.

It turns out I've become successful
In the way you always thought
Success was meant to be.

I have money coming in,
A secure job (that I like),
I'm making a lot of this money stuff too
People are liking my writing,
Even if most of it is about my disgust with you.

And I'm pretty close
To being my definition of successful.
I'm not in love,
But maybe one day.
I'm happy most days.
I have friends and family
That love me more than you ever did.

I hope you're doing well.
Just know that I'm doing better.

Life isn't a competition,
But I'm still winning.

I feel sick and empty right now,
But that's my anxiety from the rain.
As it pours down,
I realize that I'm so much better off now
Than I ever was when you held my hand,
When I could say you were part of me.

You're so much like you're father, from what I've been told.
Your biological one.
Everyone used to say that I was so much like your mother.
That's probably why we didn't work.

And I'm happier this way,
Because I'd rather be alone for awhile
Than be with someone that
Lies consistently
About everything.

The definition of success
Isn't money.
And it isn't love, either.

It's enjoying your short time here on Earth
Without letting toxic entities
Get to you.

I didn't do too hot a job at that before,
But I'm doing better now.