The little I know about leaving: there is always something that stays. You left long before I could say anything, long before I began to notice.
What used to offer now pulls away; you are three fields ahead of me walking hand-in-hand with what is to you a force of nature. How grateful you are for the presence of a storm, standstill amazement she walks in quiet beauty and does not slip through your fingers, does not run away. Secretly you wonder when the winds will blow her back to a time before you, or hastily push her into a time after.
Are you still afraid that she will leave you the way you leave everyone else.
I still take offense in your absence. After awhile, nostalgia loses its fondness and you are reduced. Of loss, more painful because of what you meant, of how easy it was to say goodbye. In the end, it wasn't a decision. There was nothing to consider. I know you don't like drama but here's my passive aggressive resignation. Kind of sorry but at the same time it's not like you were ever going to actively recognize it.
Two paths converged and instead of choosing, you left a post-it on the ground, "I'll get back to you later". Well fuck you.
My anger is uncalled for. I don't blame you or anything. On a level, I understand.
But. I know you know what it feels like to be left behind, not that you notice when you do it to other people, you've done this before. It just sucks and I'm kind of past the point of hoping you come around. Even when you're there it's not the same and I miss you and how we used to be friends. Hahaha disillusioned fairly well.
You might argue that we still are but let's be honest, long-distance doesn't really work out, does it? Civil;l we're sort of mildly divorced but kind of trying to make it work for the kids; like no one cheated on anyone or anything, but we just stopped sleeping in the same bed and eating breakfast together. There's never anyone home. U feelin' me?
I'll get over myself someday. It's hard when you think you bear importance. I hate burning bridges.
