I’ve been dreaming of you lately. I wake up confused, shocked that it has really been nine months since I last spoke to you or saw your face. The dreams are just that, dreams, made up of fairytale-esque romance and hopes of you coming back. But then I wake up and I realize what these nine months have done for me.
I no longer miss you. I just miss the thought of you and what could have been. I no longer blame myself for the emotional torture you put me through. I realize that all of the potential I saw in you was simply potential and not reality. You never bothered to cultivate that amazing spirit I saw in you. Instead, you chose to remain an immature asshole that took for granted anyone that ever loved you. I no longer beat myself up for not being worthy of your love. Instead, I am now aware that you were the one that didn’t deserve me.
I’ll never understand the logic behind hurting someone who loved you unconditionally. I’ll never be able to relate to that kind of selfishness and indifference to another human heart. I’m glad I can’t. It means that my heart was resilient and refused to harden.
Six years went by of me enduring the pain you consistently caused me solely because I saw the glimmer of something special deep within you. Most of me wants to wish that you experience the same kind of pain you put me through, but I don’t. I know that potential is still there for you to be better, to be someone truly miraculous. Maybe this is just my naivety, but despite everything you put me through, I still believe that uncultivated potential like yours is far more tragic than the idea of you finding happiness without me.
So happy nine months apart. I hope this time has given you the same growth and mental expansion it has given me.
