He never loved me, because if he loved me the way that I love him then we would have been together. While browsing through some of my old journals I found a letter that I wrote ten years ago; and never delivered it. The letter was written to the married man that I was dealing with; active word…was. While reading the letter I felt like the words resonated with me during these current times. I felt like I had just written the letter the night before; except I hadn’t. In fact, I am ten years older than I was when I originally scripted that letter.
Can you say, epiphanic? While reading the letter I was flooded with memories of bullshit time that I have wasted following behind a man who never really had the time of day for me. I will be forty in September; this means that I literally spent one quarter of my life loving someone who ultimately decided to get married. Shit, I am so uncomfortable writing this admission; but I am staying true to those of you who expect the truth that I have promised.
I decided that I will no longer waste my time on him. We spoke and I told him of my realization. I told him that I would not be seeing him anymore (in so many words) and I am now left to deal with myself. I am despondent and I know that we will never be together again; I can say this with confidence. This is not the first time that I have left him, but it is certainly the last. My third eye is open; and I have liberated myself. I am so physically healthy, I am strong and I am able. I think different and I feel different. I’m dope as fuck and that is NOT my mantra; it’s a fact. Again, I will be forty in September which means that I literally wasted a quarter of my life on nothing. What. The. Fuck.
It’s all good though. Right? I mean, we push on, we move forward in spite of; and this will be no different. Actually, it’ll be different…like a series finale.