I still find it hard to remember how we started, because I can't remember why.
All I remember is anger. And I'm still angry. I'm angry about how we turned out; who I was when I was with you; and how my life changed because of you.
At the end, it was hard, but then I was so happy. I didn't have to deal with or think about you anymore. I was free; and that's what it felt like: freedom. I felt light and airy and more like myself than I'd felt in years. Yes, years.
I had friends again. I reconnected with my old friends (although, in some cases it took years), and made new ones. And they were all great. Supportive of me, and understanding, and they helped me understand a bit more about who I really was and why I had become so much better than who I had been.
I resent you for trying to keep these people from me. I resent myself more for not noticing what happened. And so I hate that what you did makes me angry at myself.
If I had been watching anyone else, I never would have let it get that far without saying something. Instead, I had to let uncertainty be my sign. And even that took too long.
But this isn't about me, it's about you. It's about how the feelings I felt at the end are still so strong, and the feelings that started it all are completely numb. In other cases, the end blurs and the beginning and middle take over, but not with you. With you, it's all the end, and the recent slow realization of what happened without me noticing.
And I'm a stickler for detail.
True, I can see it all so clearly now. The red flags waving wildly, like the trees when a hurricane approaches. But in this case, I thought I was safe in the basement; windows boarded up, with a gas burner and canned food to get me through the storm. I almost thought the storm missed me completely, until the news reports came in.
Broken. Damaged. Major repairs needed.
And I guess I have you to thank for that. I guess you got the revenge you felt entitled to, when I finally clued in and got out.
I thought the best revenge was dusting myself off, moving on, living my own, happy life. I didn't think that "served cold" was an option.
And so, with a renewed sense of anger, and frustration, I'll rehash this all. Only this time I won't have your cynical input colouring everything that happened. I'll take a look with my own view and hopefuly I'll find a way to forgive you for what happened.
Or at least find a way to make you weak.