Sometimes I wonder if he ever really cared about me like he said he did. Sometimes I wonder if I ever loved him like I thought. Sometimes I wonder if she remembers that I loved him first. Sometimes I wonder if this is just a horrible nightmare, one where all the pain is real. Sometimes I realize, regardless that I'd rather not, that he is no longer mine.
He's no longer mine to love, or mine to miss. No longer mine to talk to, to comfort or be comforted by. No longer mine to cry over
But sometimes I still do anyway. Sometimes I lay awake at night, silently screaming for him to come back to me. But as the tears slid from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks and over the lips he use to kiss so tenderly, I realize that the 'sometimes' have become 'almost always'. I realize that the pain which had been as potent as a million white hot daggers had dulled, only to be enflamed again by the ghosts of the memories I have with him.
Sometimes I wonder if he, while laying awake with her in his arms (a place I never got to be) if he realizes the pain I feel. The pain that he caused me. Sometimes I indulge in the fact that he feels the same pain I do at time and while I do not believe in regret, I know full well that he does. Does he sometimes regret the decision he made? Does he sometimes wonder how things would have worked out otherwise?
Or is he perfectly content with his life in a way that I'm no longer capable? Every time someone begins to speak, millions of memories flood back into my mind. They break down the walls I built trying to keep them out. Sometimes I think it might be easier to distance myself from people that know my memories with him. Sometimes I think it would be easier to just forget, pretend it never happened and try to start my life back from where I was before I met him. But that means blocking out a lot of good memories with people I care about.
But then I realize the reason I desperately cling to every memory I have of him is because even if I knew then what I know now and had a choice to have changed that decision, I wouldn't have. The pain he caused me made me realize that no matter how hard I try, no matter how tough I pretend I am, I'm human not impervious to pain.
That hurt forces me to remember who I really am and all that I am. It makes me cry at times, it makes me irritable at others. But mostly it caused me to swallow my pride and grow up. I had to learn to bite my tongue and deal with pain. Sometimes I think he was the worst thing to ever happen to me, sometimes I think he's the best. But in all truth, he was probably both. He hurt me in the worst way possible, but that cause me to learn.
He left me broke, a near empty shell of the person I used to be. That in turn forced me to rid myself of the person I had molded myself into just to make him happy. This lets me become the person I'm going to be for the rest of my life. Until someone comes to tear that down too. I suppose it's like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly. Constantly changing. Each time getting more beautiful.
