I used to believe in every word you said. I used to put my trust in you. Every time, you knew when to say what you needed to tell me and I was happy to wait a little longer. Was it really love that we felt at that time? Was it really?
Your control over me happened in stages, boxing me up with each fold you were making. Now, I’m just angry at myself. Angry for letting it happen, angry for letting it get this far. Besides that, I started to doubt if you meant all you said to me. Looking back I feel dissapointed if that is what love really is, an intimate game we played with each of our hearts at stake.
Looking forward however, it feels like a relief. Even though things will not automatically solve itself, I feel comforted with the thought that I have to carry my own weight this time around. At least, I won’t have to wait and depend on you like I did for so long, because now I can feel like I’m finally moving forward making my own decisions.
We still live in the house together, but we live like ghosts. It feels like we are living in parallel universes, that’s how hard we try to avoid each other. Just like you avoid the food I made. The mail betrayed you and told me you never came home from Friday to Sunday. You hardly sleep at home at night and I don’t see you except for the traces you leave when you did get home while I was at work.
You have set me free when you took your ring off, when you thought you were gonna hurt me instead. It doesn’t hurt me anymore, because we tried and it didn’t work out. I think we both just couldn’t give that anymore, that x-factor to bring back the relationship from the land of the undead.
Because we used to know each other for who we were. We used to know each other’s thoughts, each other’s directions in life.
I used to think you appreciated my input.
I used to know you as a man I admire.
I used to love you so, so hard.
I used to.