I finish drying myself off and fold the
towel neatly, hanging it on the rack. I step into the bedroom, gather the
dirty clothes I just took off and drop them in the
laundry basket. I sit on the bed for a moment, enjoying the cool air and
fresh from the shower feeling.
I smile ever so slightly. A year ago the towel would be on the bathroom floor and the dirty clothes would be... well...
everywhere. Not that I place a lot of value in perfect order... I am still not as obsessive as you were... my desk is still cluttered, and
there is dust on the shelves.
I can no longer lie to myself and say that I was always happy. You made me happy for
a while. But you also made me realize that
happiness is not the company we keep. You were the most intelligent person I knew and you acted like you had a great personality. But you were holding on to the life-vision you had for yourself and I could tell almost right away that I was only in it out of fear. Your
personality was molded to fit mine. It wasn't really you, and every once in a while the real you would break out.
I never liked the real you.
Why did I go through with it? There's a
ring that I still sometimes wear on my finger, more out of habit than anything. It used to symbolize a
vow I made to you. I went through with it because I was
chasing acceptance, a family that I never had, and an escape from the
crushing loneliness I felt because I wasn't good enough to hang out with myself.
When you announced that you were leaving it hurt me in ways I had never even imagined.
Ways a person should never ever be hurt. I
begged, I
cried, I promised I would
change. You
turned a deaf ear to all of it. You had made up your mind.
Once you were gone, however, the freedom I felt was
overpowering. I did what I wanted without you standing over my shoulder attempting to
mold me into your vision. I kept expecting the crash to come and it never did. I finally accepted the fact that I wasn't happy either. No matter how much I told myself we had the
perfect marriage, it never would have been.
That was a year ago. Between then and now I have fought the
demons of a child of an abusive,
alcoholic father. I learned to stop
sabotaging my happiness. I lost 25 pounds and am still losing weight. You, however, are calling and begging me to take you back. Flirting with me relentlessly. Acting like the person I fell in love with.
And it
hurts me to think there's a chance that
you'll never know how much you've changed me.