i both hope i never see you again and also wish you could fucking see me now; you miserable fuck. i both picture a clarifying moment of personal vengeance but more often i sit back in my peace, just grateful that you no longer know any part of me. and yes, i know you're probably somewhere pantomiming happiness, pretending like nothing happened, like you don't even remember me - and yes, that shit makes me furious when i think about it. but i'm in therapy. i'm healing. less and less i feel the wound bleed. more and more often i am so content it spills out of me. i got my laughter back, i got back my dancing. i love myself more than you ever did.
so the adage of revenge is maybe validated. i have my incredible, vibrant reward: without you, i've made a life well-lived.















