I feel discarded. Cast aside.
No discussion, no attempt to sort it out.
I would have waited.
But you decided.
Somewhere between Friday night, and Saturday morning, it was all your call. I didn’t have a say.
I had no clue.
You said “it’s for the best, you’ll see”.
And then you were gone, and I was not to contact you.
Somehow that doesn’t seem like enough. Not after “I love you”, “I’m not going anywhere”, “you are safe with me”. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
And now I’m the one who feels broken.
A rulebreaker – writing this, knowing that you want me to “detach”.
I am being someone, who – whilst not 100% detached – still cares, even if it hurts.
I am being someone, who values you, misses your voice, your mind, your hand in mine, and who does not want to be completely shut off from you.
I am being someone, who is grateful to have been loved by you, for a short while.
I am being someone, who does not hold onto blame and resentment – except perhaps, for circumstance and bad timing.
I am being someone, who is trying her best to accept things as they are.
I am being someone, who hopes that you are doing OK.
I am being, Someone.