It's Christmas Eve. I wish I felt more at ease, free, happy. I'm okay. Not awful. Hung over. I wish you would say something, anything to me. But in time.

I woke up to my own screams this morning, the thought of completely losing you. But I am trying and fighting to be kind and to keep my distance from you. I know you must be going through the same in your own way. Perhaps as we said from the start, even more pain. Because I knew the truth all along as you chased me, hunted me, demanded I be yours until I was so deeply yours that the thought of my life without you, to this day, still paralyzes me. Maybe I am addicted to heart break, nostalgia, what was, the love that was once there with insert lover here. Everyone looks at me and wonders what I saw in you, why it's taking so long for me to let go, that you will never be who I desire.

Last night I waltzed all around a party and I thought to myself: "I'm so glad he's not here. It would be just wrong." But my hands gripping so tightly onto the vulnerability I showed you that resides so deeply within me, I have to be ready to let you go. "Cut it off" "you deserve so much better." I know what's at stake here.

My relationship with me.

So thank you, thank you for giving me the opportunity and reminder to be true and good to me. I know you must feel sorrow, anger, convincing yourself it was all worth it. And for you, it was.

Thank you for teaching me what I need and want. Thank you for leaving me in the dust to pick up the pieces of me I ignored all along. And most of all, thank you for the transition, the fun times, the new friends. And now with beautiful light hands: I release you into the romantic nothingness we now are, because I said so.