If I were my older sister, that is what I would tell me right now: Let it go. Let go that he doesn't care. Let go that you thought he was your one even when he said the same thing to you. Let it go because he never really was. He was mean, cynical and negative. He was overly critical and judgmental. Things that at the end of the day, I need to determine whether or not they are worth it. And my stupid heart wants them to be, but my smarter head won't let me. It's that constant struggle and I'm 35 years old. I suppose it will never end. I don't believe that I am destined to ride out the rest of my life alone, just not with him. I guess I have to accept it. "Urge surf" it as I've come to learn. Just like an addiction.
He said he was "done two weeks ago" and wished you luck. Translation: I don't give a fuck. I never really did. I was an instrument in your life. Good or bad, but an instrument nonetheless and a secret you will take with you to the grave. When someone reads these words, they'll wonder who he is, but it will remain the secret of my heart. Some people will know. Few. And they will possibly take it to their graves too. Sad, but part of finding happiness means experiencing this so you know when it will be. And I will be. I'll be happy. I just need to be sad first.
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