It’s been a year now.

It’s been a year since we parted ways, a year since I learned that I’m phenomenal at healing and growing up, and a year since we had our last real conversation as ‘us’.

I wrote a lot about you, I still write a lot about you- but what I never did was write the truth. I always made it pretty and I always made it about the inevitably long yet meaningful journey I was about to embark on without you.

And I did just that. I got my dream job, I moved across the country, and effectively eliminated any whisper of your existence entirely.

I never wrote about the cheating. I never really expressed my deepest anger; the fact that my skin felt like it was constantly on fire for months because I couldn’t shake the rage. The disbelief I’d corner myself with every night when I lay down in my bed- alone.

How could you do this to me again?

I never wrote about the laughably obvious lie you spun about ‘needing to walk your journey alone’ when all you wanted to do was find your next victim. I never wrote about the fact that you are a professional gas-lighter and I wish the people in your life knew that.

I was so proud of myself for holding this (and SO much more) back. I thought I deserved something for it. Look at me- taking the high road.

But this isn’t about some existential road. This is about the truth. This is about the fact you cheated on me twice, left me twice, and found my replacement within days. You’ll never know what that feels like because you’ll never give yourself the chance to be alone. You wouldn’t even last a week.

I would say I feel sorry for you- but I don’t. I feel sorry for myself for holding this in for so long. I’m not even sure I’m mad at you anymore, but I have a deeply rooted need for justice and I think this is a part of that.

I deserve the right to say these things to your face and for you to actually hear them. I deserve someone (not you, someone decent) who will never do what you did.

I deserve an actual apology.

I’ll never get it, this much I know. Not a real one anyway. I think what I’ve learned over this past year is though I very much deserve that apology, I don’t even want it anymore. What good would it do me that I haven’t already done for myself?

Because the fact of the matter is- even though I crave justice and stability and for things to be set right; I already took care of that myself.

I moved on without the apology, I moved on even though, at the time, the damage you caused felt like it might have been permanent. I moved on because I know there are infinitely better people out there than you.

It’s been a year now, and I’m so glad I’ve made every decision I have for myself since the day you left. I have no guilt when I lay my head down at night.

I hope you can say the same.