only sleeping

I think about you.

People tell me I shouldn't bother, that you've made your choice and I should respect that. Have the decency to move on quietly and without much fanfare. I'd like to think I've done that, but it doesn't stop the thoughts that pop into my head at random times...usually right before I fall asleep at night.

Or like now.

Are you happy? Do you think about us at all? Do you think about the destruction you left behind?

It doesn't matter. People make choices. People break promises. People lie through their teeth and don't ever realize that someone else might see that they *are*, indeed, lying.

He knew. He knew for a long time before I even realized he had the first clue that something was not right where you were concerned. It used to make me so goddamn angry that you could jerk him around like that. That you would manipulate him, like he was some sort of puppet. I didn't give him enough credit, I guess- because imagine my surprise when I finally snapped and ranted about all of the lies, and he sat back with a sad smile on his face and said "I know."

He didn't care any more. All the times you assumed he didn't care, and there I was, going to bat for you, insisting that he loved you more than anything. I was stupid. I didn't see it. But I understand *why* he didn't care any more. He couldn't take it any more, always feeling like a non-entity. Always feeling like he didn't matter at all. Like he was invisible.

I try to make him feel like he matters. I try to listen to him, even when he doesn't have anything to say besides "I'm tired, It's been a long day." It doesn't bother me, the way it used to bother you, when he slips up and repeats himself. Or maybe doesn't know quite what to say. You know *why* it doesn't bother me? Because he's a wonderful man, with a huge heart. I didn't know that people like him *existed* before I met you. It's ironic, isn't it? I didn't compete with you for his attention. I didn't steal him from you, like so many people tried to insinuate that I would. You gave him to me. You *gave* him to me.

I should thank you for that, but I'm too angry. You hurt him. Not by leaving- no, like I said, by the time you left, he was completely burned out and just didn't *care* any more. You hurt him with all of your lies. You hurt him by assuming that he was too stupid to see the truth.

Did you hurt *me*? I wish I could sit back and say no. I *can* say that I expected this to happen, all along. I *can* say that the first thing I felt on realizing that you were gone for good is *relief*. But I can't say it didn't hurt. Still does, actually, at weird times. Always when I least expect it. Always when I think you're not on my mind any more. Something will happen, and I'll get the urge to tell you about it, because it's something that only *you* would understand. It takes me a while, sometimes, to realize you're not going to re-appear in a week or a month with some tragic story excusing your absense.

It's funny, though, because it doesn't always feel like you're gone. Sometimes I feel like you're still with me, and that just...pisses me off more than you can imagine. It makes me happy, too- good luck figuring that out. I never claimed to make sense. I never claimed to be rational.

I loved you. I would have done anything for you. It wasn't enough. And that's funny, too, because I always knew it wasn't enough. Think of all of the times I came running to you, an emotional wreck, because of this *feeling*...this certainty...that you needed more. You would reassure me, use all sorts of pretty words that I knew at the time were completely meaningless. We play these silly games with ourselves when there's something right in front of us that we want to believe more than anything else. More than our common sense.

He told our friends that if you ever come back, they're not supposed to let you get ahold of me. As far as you're concerned, both of us are gone forever. See, he's funny that way. He gets protective as shit over people he cares about. I'm funny that way, too.

I don't ever want to hurt him the way that you did. He deserves better than that. He tells me that I do, too...but I'm not so sure. See, I'm not stupid. I know this is karma, because I've treated people I cared about *very* badly. I've thought of myself before them, quieted my conscience with whispers of "this is what I need to do, for my own good." "this is what I need to do, to be happy." It's all bullshit, of course. I can see *now* that I should have done all sorts of things differently.

I can't change the past, but I can stop myself from repeating the same mistakes in the future.

I can take a look at *you*, and how this ended...and resolve to never treat another person how you treated the two of us. I'm sure I'll still fuck up, and make mistakes...but I can *try* to be a better person.

A part of me will always love you. A part of me will never forget how *good* things were. And a part of me will never stop missing you. But I've learned it's not the end of the world. Things are *good*, now. I'm happier than I've been in a long, long time.

I hope you are, too.