Some days it feels like I am supposed to not care. Most days, really. And most days I don't. I have a life: full and overgrown around the void that you left. It used to be that my LIFE missed you. Wasn’t whole or hardly functional without some sort of you in it. You would laugh at that. Bc you never felt it. Bc I never was that for you. And not even bc I meant less, only bc you had several me’s. We were on rotation, whoever was (is) convenient, handy…easy (swallowed your line of self-serving bullshit, cough cough.)

But truth be told, even now that my LIFE doesn’t miss you (what kind of life would really function LESS after the removal of a dead weight, an evil burden, a true albatross!?), I miss you. The me part. The whole person, with feelings and memories. I miss you crouching down to surprise me even though YOU rang my bell. Popping up all crooked smile and shaggy hair. I miss that joy (it wasn’t just on my face). The PERSON in me, despite the intelligence, misses you so bad, because I can’t find anything even kind of like it again.

That person feels so hurt that you don’t care that we are totally separate now. That you didn’t say anything when I said goodbye. That the bond we had (we had one, right?) meant so little to you, that it makes perfect sense that my absence doesn’t hurt, because it had been filled before it existed. That person hurts. Not every day (most) and not a LOT (a lot), because even when I am not thinking about you for days, weeks…I am.

That feeling will never come again for me.

Every time I approach or even recall that feeling, it will be attended by a shadow of you. Some sad or angry remembrance. A comparison. No way around it, there is no good without the bad, and what better and worse than a happiness...ruined by treachery? I will never be so happy again, and never recall a happiness without the sting of your betrayals. All my happinesses forever will smart with your careless, selfish ways.

Is it really just that she is thin, and small and virginal? Seems like a stretch. And at the same time, seems like the only truth. Like there were tiny markers when I was with you that you were never really ok with me. You had “never been with” a “girl like me” all those curves, you were “freaked out” when I slept with you. What were YOU trying to prove about YOU by being with someone? Me OR her. Both made issues of who YOU were, how GOOD you were (or weren’t), how MANLY (or not).

How could you have used me like that? I Loved You So.