Waking

Losing you actually feels a lot like having you. Except without all the work.
I'm no longer so afraid, so constrained. Yes, every part of me hurts. But I realize I never had you begin with. That reality hits me in the face but also releases me. It was so much work, and I was tired. I was tired of feeling unwanted.
I was tired of dealing with your selfishness. No longer would I feel bad if you didn't want to buy me a drink, or give be a ride to save on parking. No longer did I have to pour myself into dinners and dates and holidays only to leave it feeling unreciprocated and empty. No longer would I see when you were last active online and wonder why you weren't talking to me. No longer would I have to compromise on my entire being just to have the privilege of you answering my texts.
I remember you saying it would be hard and lonely without me, but you could do it. I'm confident you can. You shielded yourself from me for so long, I didn't even make a dent.
That realization makes me heavy, but angry. And sorry for you. I begin to understand why you don't have people you are close to.
Life carries on much the same, because it has to. I feel a little like destroying things. But there's no looking back now. I want to take all the pain in at once, and leave it. But pain is an unpredictable mistress.
So I just keep moving. Keep moving on.