It’s hard to hate you because really, I feel bad for you. It must not be easy to push people away constantly, to be someone who sees other people as place-fillers. All of this is only preventing you from realizing that at the root of it all, you’re alone.
I wish you saw how great we are together.
I wish I saw how great we are together.
I know that you think that I’m this tough girl, capable of not feeling, but I’m not.
Another year and a half has passed and after gathering my entire life into two suitcases and moving back across the Atlantic, I can’t help but think about what it is I’ve learned after leaving London.
My father’s ability to allow the comments to slide off his back easily has made my mother blind to the racism. He has learned to not care about what is said; he distances himself from it and laughs it off. I do not have this ability.
On a Saturday night, when I’m lying in his arms, I note that he chose the same side of the bed as you. My mind takes inventory of all the ways he is not you: his smell is not yours, his hand does not curl around mine the way yours does, and his breath does not send shivers down my spine like your deep exhales do. But I’m with him, so I must be over you.
If they’re a true user, they will soon make their exit.
1. Before now, I have never fully understood what loneliness feels like.
My ex was in town. He travelled 6,000 km to play some music to a new crowd and I just happened to live there.