There’s a reason I never worry about him.
I think leaving and leaving was the only way I could ever figure myself out (this is as if I purport to be a person who has figured themselves out). I think right now, this exact moment is the moment I get over my first love and unfortunately, this was my second love.
Second loves are the loves that taste like coffee and breakfast buns. They have an organized silverware drawer and a to do list, and they save your favorite music. My second love wanted to make me the best possible version of myself but I didn’t want that. I didn’t know what the best possible version of myself looked like and I don’t think I was ready for it. Even right now, I think I’m getting there but I’m not even close.
I wouldn’t wish that version of myself, who I was with him, who I was then, on my worst enemy and I’m glad I exiled myself.
I’m growing by understanding that I was the toxic person then and if I don’t take care, I could be capable of the same venom again.
I’m pruning my leaves and typing apologies I won’t send.