A part of me wishes that people were like jackets - easy to take off when they start to make you feel uncomfortable or when you no longer need them. Or maybe like a pair of socks or shoes - easy to toss and replace once you've worn them down. Another part of me is reactively angered by that thought because that is, in fact, how some people treat other people. That's how I feel you treated me in the end - as if I were disposable or replaceable; an object. Maybe that's how you rationalized and justified your actions and choices. Maybe that's why it didn't bother you that I became the collateral damage of your war with yourself.
I'm exhausted of having to be face to face with my feelings all of the time. It's so much easier to just find something else to busy myself with - there is no shortage of distractions (no matter how important those things are, in this case they're still distractions - work feels like a distraction, investing in my other relationships feels like a distraction, self care routines feel like a distraction, cooking feels like a distraction). There's a gnawing feeling in my mind that persists even though I've tried to release and surrender to it so many times. I don't want to write about you anymore. I don't want to cry anymore. I don't want to push through it anymore. I just want to feel nothing when I see you instead of unknowingly holding my breath until you're out of sight. I can feel the volatility of my internal world - swirling like magma beneath a calm and cool exterior.
There's some bittersweet irony here. The way in which I wish to become like you is the reason why you were able to hurt me like you did. I wish to have capacity for indifference because your indifference has devastated me. And now I understand you even better. And if I ponder on whether my theory is at all correct, my heart breaks for you all over again... until I've felt so many waves of emotion and thought that I crave to be indifferent once more. (But I can't/won't be so the cycle persists)
When will the thought of you run cold and lie dormant?
Or when will I explode?
Was it desperation -
My bleeding heart,
That drove us further
And further apart?
Or was it you
And your indifference -
To doing anything hard?