I don’t think of you as often as I used to. In fact, this is probably the least in my adult life I’ve thought about you. Since we started dating it was all you, you, you. I liked you. I loved you. I worried about you. I cared for you. I thought about you. With you, I had some of the most romantic moments of my life. You, you, you.
And then it all came crashing down. You hurt me. You lies to me. You stole from me.You caused me pain. I was angry with you.
I couldn’t bring myself to forgive you. I missed you. I yearned for you. I wanted you back. But I didn’t want you back. I wanted my old life with you back.
No I don't think so!
I don’t think of you every morning. I don’t dwell on the pain. It still hurts sometimes, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t allow myself to be swallowed up in the sadness. I no longer go swimming in the memories, hoping for an escape from my new life. I no longer close my eyes and conjure your eyes, your lips, the way I felt in your arms. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I cried over you. I can’t promise I won’t shed another tear over you, or our relationship, but it’s nice to know that my tears are my own again.
When I think about a relationship with another man, I don’t think about whether or not I am ready. I do not consider if I’ve moved on too fast or if I’m on the rebound. I think about whether this person is right for me – regardless of what happened with you and me. I try not to compare him to you. I mostly succeed.
Sometimes I still wonder how you are doing. I wonder if you are happy. I wonder what you think about me, and I can almost imagine you reading this, shaking your head. You always told me that I care too much what people think of me.
So What do you think of who I’ve become?