Mitch

I want to scream at the top of my lungs that I hate you, you son of a bitch; I hate you for my feeling this way, so lost and forlorn and just not good enough.  I hate you for being out with someone obviously more seductive and sexy and smarter and funnier and wittier than me.

And then I remember that this is mostly my fault.  I moved on. Or at least I wanted to and thought that I had.  I pushed you aside, not the other way around.  Fuck I'm stupid.  I think I knew it at the time too.  Ultimately I hurt someone else who probably really does love me.

Even then, in the final days of us being together, I never felt like I was enough to sustain your interest or passion.  Why do I keep hoping? What drives me to this insane place that says that tomorrow morning you will wake up and love me.  Only me?

I stare at this page through unshed tears.  I told you not long ago that I didn't want to live a life where I didn't jump for what I want.  And you said, "If you are interested in losing the drama in your life let me know".  Why didn't you tell me then that there was another, better, prettier woman who is ENOUGH?  More than I can be to you?  More than worth the effort?  I believed you. I bought it.  You got me.

When will I get to be more than a warm body in your bed? Do I even want to be?  My hope is that I learn from this.  I hope that I learn that I have to stand up for myself faster.  Speak my mind and heart without fear of being thought crazy.  And to jump.  Jump when my gut (and my heart) says the time is right and not when my brain gives me permission.

My heartache is lessening each day.  I am not hopeful about the probability of there ever being an "us".  I am growing and moving on.  It blows, let me tell you.  For a girl who has spent much of her life not feeling to feel that much heartache all at once was indescribable.  At least now I know that there is hope for me to have emotions, REAL ones.

For that, I will be forever in your debt.  Thank you.  Really, I mean it.