Move to find stillness. And if not stillness, then at least insight.
Ask me how I got there and I’ll happily whisk you away in a tale of cobbled streets and antique lamp posts, men with thick eyebrows and women with slender ankles, children with rosy cheeks, weathered bicycles, shiny cars and low flying birds, and of architecture for miles.
I asked you to stay even though I already knew that you won’t. You can’t.
Why doesn’t my mother love me?
I love myself far too much to allow you back into my life ever again. You were a dangerous thing that made me question my existence without you. Well, not only did I learn to live without you, I learned how much better life is when one person is not your universe.
You’re single, because you refuse to accept compliments. You refuse to believe that anyone could find you attractive.
Out of nowhere, you stopped answering my texts.
It was you who messed up, not me. It was you who left me without closure, without a leg to stand on. And it was your mistake, not mine.
“I exist in two places, here and where you are.” — Margaret Atwood