I use to be able to write so much about you.
Now I find I don’t care to even think about you.
All this writing and heartache feel silly now.
All it took was telling someone else my fears and worries.
All it took was turning to someone that respects me more than you.
All it took was accepting my feelings for you were done.
All it took was seeing past the fog of you.

Ending my silent pain cleared the haze.
You are no longer my boogie man.
The thought of you invading my home isn’t terrifying.
The thought of being graced by your presence isn’t paralyzing.
The thought of breathing without you is freeing.

My breakdowns are buried in the depths of living.
You don’t matter to me anymore.
You don’t own my heart anymore.
I am free.

I think that’s what I was afraid of all along:
that you would not mean anything to me one day;
that my love was wasted on you.
And it was.
You wasted my time.
You wasted my trust.
You wasted me.