I found out you moved on,
you’re with another woman.

I felt nothing.

I thought I would cry,
tear my hair out over you—
but I think I love myself now.

My weekly therapy sessions worked.

You’re not letting me go.
You’re making everything harder,
slowing down my plans.

Do you still miss me?

You chose to move on
and I respect that.
I’m sorry—
truly, deeply sorry—
for destroying us.

I miss us.
I miss the love
that was more attachment
and dependence
than anything else,
but still—
it was something.
It was family.

Crying is part of it.
So is regret.
And yes—if it could ****,
I’d already be dead.
But by my own hand,
not because he destroyed me.
(I wouldn’t give him
that pleasure.)

Seeing you happy,
traveling to a place
we once planned to go,
leaves a bitter taste
and makes my stomach tremble.
I wish I were there with you.
I feel I’ve lost so much
I feel I’ve lost
us.

I will respect you.
You did it
you climbed out of the hole
you once called home
and you flew.
Fly, my love,
you are free
to soar.

it’s a bad,  
bad world.  

the world's  
on fire —  
and i'm just  
livin' in it.  

don’t  
tell me  
it's alright,  

don't tell  
me it'll  
be fine.  

because  
when the  
fire winds  
down,  

all that's  
left is smoke —  
truths and regrets.  

the world  
feels heavy,  

and i wish  
this wasn’t  
testing me.  

(is it over yet?)  

all  
i want,  
and all  
i need,  

is to  
find my  
center again —  

and not  
let this  
get the best  
of me.  

because  
being pulled  
down by  
the weight  
of the world  

is somewhere  
i don’t  
want to  
end up  
again.