It seems like something inside of me might just be ready to blow--a sluggish, imperceptible piece of my landscape just on the brink of a major shift. It leaves me unsettled, shaky, anxious and...angry?

I feel a second wind of anger and hate, and I say hate without meaning a petty assessment of whether or not I LIKE you. It's worse. It is all vengeance and violence and rage. It only is the part of hate that happens right at the moment of crisis, when someone snaps.

I feel it. I feel that. I feel SO MUCH ANGER.

Not in my head, in my body. Maybe this is a good thing. But it feels...crazy. My brain can hardly work up a snarl of anger when I have been silver-platter served good reason to feel angry. Like I was last week.

But my body? Feels like something is bubbling under my skin. I can feel it in my wrists. My joins wobble like a hangover with something they don't know how to contain.

But my words are not so angry.

Truly.

It's like my rational brain and my wounded heart win out over my righteous (and right) bodily reaction. I want to make peace and heal. I want to move on. I want to be on good terms.

But my body can feel how you want to string me along. Not even consciously. But you DON'T LOVE ME. I won't even tap your inability to love or the painfully probable fact that your pathological selfishness really means you don't love anyone. Not today I won't. But you sure as heck don't love me.

You don't want me. Didn't want me. Maybe ever. Not really. You don't wish you had made a different choice. You don't wish I hadn't moved. You don't wish I was there instead of her. You don't need or want me except for how it makes you feel to lose me, to not have me as a member of your adoring public.

You don't want ME at all. You don't miss ME at all. You are totally cool until I back off then your stunned ego reels me back in. DON'T DO IT!

It is so much more SERIOUS than that. This is my LIFE! I can't ever put my shattered heart back together if you keep slapping it around like your ego's favorite sport. Please, the one decent thing you can do now is not lead me on.

Remember when you said that?

Don't lead me on. Didn't you do enough of that this past YEAR? A year you dragged my little glowing heart through the mud and now it is ragged and beaten and wheezing. You made it glow! Then you threw it in a dungeon. If that makes you hurt then stop doing it again! Just let it sputter back to life as whatever second-hand version of it's old glorious self it can manage.

We are not friends. You are my painful, painful ex. My missing piece. I am not the one that got away.

You made your choice.