I wrote this once...

 "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, It might have been."John Greenleaf Whittier.

I think and reflect. Of what might have been.Of what could have been.  But of what will never be. 

And I guess, those thoughts are ones of melancholic sadness.  It is always hard to think of the loss of the potential. 

Especially when we know exactly what that potential was or could have been.

It could have been. It might have been. It never will be.

And I write it again now, for the very same reason, almost 10 years on.

Different time. 

Different person

But the very same loss, similar feelings. The same realisation.

Life moves in strange ways. Not always good ones. All I can take from this is knowing that I’ve listened to the part of me that has said “this is not ok”

I will take that. There’s nothing else to take right now.

I spoke of you yesterday....

I spoke of you yesterday.

For the first time in so many years. 

The sense of loss of the friendship we once had came over me in waves as I later recalled and reflected just how life changed from that day I had to had to leave and walk away. 

That day I had to let go <here>

I can still recall that final touch, the way your skin felt under my fingers as I touched your cheek.

I can still feel that sense of pain as my heart felt like a mirror shattering as it hit the floor in a load of tiny pieces.  

I can still feel the sting of the tear that went down my cheek at that farewell, the one that mirrored your own.

I can still recall the saddest sentence "what might have been", except, I know even now that it would never have been, it could never have been.

I found myself wondering about where life has taken you since then.  

I've seen you twice, once from a distance. And once a moment shared that should never have been.  It's still years since I have seen you. 

I've often thought about where you are, of where you've been.

The passing of time, the passing of the years still do not take away from the loss of the friend I once had, the friendship that we shared.

We shared a lot. 

I carry no regrets only special moments that I will never forget. Except, I do regret the friendship that we lost.

I hope life has been kind.  I hope that you have been happy.

My friend, I wish that for you always.

Dedicate

"I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me" Charlotte Green.

Wise words Charlotte, very wise words indeed. 

I've written posts. I've written words. Yes, I've written poems too of things from the distant past, of things more recent.  At the time they were a release of thoughts and feelings, but they're deleted, thrown away never to see daylight, never to be seen, read or witnessed for this very reason! 

Writing for me, is often a release.  I don't do it for other people to read, to comment or even to see.  It is quite simply for me. 

I have, or should say had, several hundred draft entries here on my blog, they've been purged.

Using the delete button can have a very cathartic feeling of it's own, cleansing away the negative, taking away the toxic feelings, taking away the things that no longer need to be there. Things that do not need anything further dedicated to them other than the original function of a release (and relief) at the time of writing.

And the purging, the letting go it brings about it's own sense of release. 

But Charlotte, you're right, we do not need to dedicate things to people who will never dedicate a single thing in return. 

So, let's not.

Purge yourself

"Sometimes you've got to let everything go - purge yourself.  If you are unhappy with anything . . .whatever is bringing you down, get rid of it.  Because you'll find that when you're free your true creativity, your true self comes out."

Tina Turner

There are things, which are at times, easier said than done, and purging is one of those things.

We may see something isn't right, we may feel that something is toxic, we can even see the damage that things or people may be causing to ourselves, to our lives, to our own sense of wellbeing, but even seeing all of that, purging isn't all that easy.

Does purging really bring that sense of freedom?

Perhaps, when you've allowed yourself to be free from all the toxicity, when you've allowed yourself to recover from the negative and allow the positivity to flow back into life. 

When you really have let go.

There are things I'm letting go of, things that need to be placed into a box because there's no need for them to see light of day anymore, there's no need for me to carry them any longer.

It's time to let go.  It's time to purge.  I have a clarity of my own thoughts that I've not had for a while.

I'm letting go. Happily. 


It's time to let go, it's time to be free, it's time for oh, so much more.

Destiny.

We heard the news yesterday, that the coroner has released the body following the death of my friend.  A moment of sadness, but also a moment which means that family and friends can now make plans to say a final farewell.  A farewell to someone who was special to a lot of people.

They were a friend, who had touched life in many different ways.

Every person you encounter in your life, whether it is significant or not, leaves an imprint on your soul… from the tiniest speck to a small mark to a huge spot. Sometimes they are like wounds that need time to heal, and sometimes they are like kisses that you wish you had more of. Everyone is important…they help to shape us to be the people that we need to be to be able find our true happiness.

They couldn't find their happiness in life and that makes my heart ache so very much for them.  They used to say be who you are, believe in yourself, be the person that you want to be and you will find happiness and ultimately the person you are meant to share it with.  My heart aches that they never found that happiness.

They once said to me, enjoy the journey in getting to that place, enjoy the people you encounter along the way.  Each person comes into life for a reason even if we may not see it at the time, they may be there for only a short period of time, but there's still a reason, it just may take us time to figure out what that reason is.  And sometimes, that reason may not bring happy times, it may bring sadness and heartache and pain and that makes it doubly hard to ever understand why that person has come into our lives. 

We shared this conversation again on the night before they took their life, and their words echo in my mind.

And this parting comment . . .

There will be a time that journey will reach it's destination, a moment when you are truly happy, when you are loving but more so truly loved back, then you will know that you have arrived at your destiny, that the people you've met along the way were only part of that journey, and when you find that happiness, that love, know that it's your destiny and you've arrived at your destination.  If you're not truly loved back, if you're not truly happy, then it's not the destination and the journey is not over.

My friend was part of my journey, a journey where I've not reached my destination . . . their words will remain with me always, I wish that they were still taking their own journey, but hope with all my heart, that in their destination they are at peace.

A life is stilled.

No matter what anyone says that someone shouldn't feel guilt, it doesn't stop the feelings of guilt when you learn someone has attempted to take their own life.

Not only attempted, but succeeded.

I recognise that someone's decision isn't my fault.  I recognise that there have been no warning signs and that just as many others didn't, I didn't have any idea either. 

But, my goodness, when I was speaking with them in the very late hours of the night and into the early depths of yesterday morning. I quite simply had no idea, there was no inkling of their feelings, their intentions.  There was no suggestion that in a matter of less than 24 hours they'd be gone.

How could I not see it?  How could I not have known?  How could I not have heard the things that they didn't say?

We spoke of so many things, and yet, it would appear that so many things were left unspoken. 

Why didn't I see it? Hear it? Feel it? Why couldn't they share?

My mind is haunted by words that were never uttered, haunted by thoughts of could I have done more.  I have a deep sense of guilt deep within my heart.  My heart aches for them, that they were left feeling in life, that nothing was actually worth staying for, and right now, I am angry at myself for the fact that I didn't see it, didn't hear those feelings and didn't see what was going to happen a few hours later.

My mind has played over the conversation over and over again, looking for clues, did I miss an outstretched hand that they wanted me to take?  And yet, no matter how many times I play it over.  There is nothing. Nothing which could have suggested that they had reached the end.

I feel as if I've let them down in some monumental way.  I feel as if I've failed them, but also, so very sad that they were left in a place where nothing else was an option. 

Did I fail in being the friend to them that they needed?  Even though I was the person they reached out to, just as they've done before.  And yet still I didn't know, I didn't see it, I didn't feel it.  They didn't show it.

We talked, we even laughed, sometimes through tears, but we laughed.  How could I not have known?  How could I fail them so very badly?

And I have. 

I know this was their choice, THEIR decision because they couldn't cope with where life is, the things that are happening.  My rational mind even tells me it's not a reflection on me.  But, it does feel that way, somehow.

Why does it feel as if I've failed them?

Because it does feel that way and more.

I've lost a lot of people from life, my Mum, my brother, my grandparents, a cousin my age, a close friend.  I've even lost an uncle to suicide, and each of those losses carry their own feelings, they bring their own types of grief and pain.

But right now . . ?  Right now guilt and sadness and pain and loss and a deep sense of failure flows through me right now.  A sense of failure but more so, the heart-breaking realisation that they couldn't reach out enough, that they couldn't find the words.  Or was it us not hearing?

Oh how I wish I knew.

I feel anger towards myself that I didn't see it. Anger and guilt and pain and loss.  And a deep sadness that a life has ended in this way, that someone was filled with so much pain, filled with so much sadness, so much heartache that for them, there was no other option.

Did they feel as if they were not cared about? 

So many people showed them this wasn't the case, maybe they couldn't see it, or maybe we failed in showing it enough. 

Did we really fail?  Did we really let them down? 

Or was it just me.

The day is dark and my heart aches right now.

To my Friend

May you find the peace within your
heart that you were

not able to find here.

I hope your anguish
will now forever cease

And that your deep anxieties
will be replaced by endless peace.

I love you. Always.
Kat

End of the tunnel . . .

I've been working on a seriously big project for over 4 weeks, although the past 4 weeks have seen working 90+ hour weeks, last weekend and into this week saw 3 days of no sleep.  

I've literally been living and breathing this project - it's been my baby.  And it has taken priority over a lot of things, not from choice, but because it has HAD to be that way.  Thankfully those close to me have been totally accepting of that and their support and putting up with my no sleep for 3 day self has been absolutely appreciated.

We were due to launch on Tuesday following a soft launch the previous Friday.  

Soft launch didn't happen due to tech issues, so we went straight into a hard launch, 5 hours later than planned on Tuesday.  

Cue another night of no sleep as I worked through the night to resolve all of the issues that we'd have resolved before had we been able to soft launch.

But hey, it's done.  

It's live.  

And it's an amazing feeling being able to sit back and see the finished project (or at least the front end project).  

The back end is a different story and issues way beyond my control has led to a few very frustrating days.  I HATE it when there are things that go wrong that I have no control over.  Oh let's be honest, I HATE not having control over things at least then if they go wrong, it's at my door.

The week has been frustrating.  

But there is light at the end of the tunnel.  

Some things have obviously stayed further back in that tunnel for whatever reason that is.  I have no idea why, and I'm not sure if I really even want to know.  If it was meant to be that they would be coming out of the tunnel this end too, then they would.  

I don't subscribe to everything happens for a reason train of thought.  

Things happen.  End of really.  

I have no wish or desire to disect why.  Maybe that says enough.

But there's light at the end of my tunnel and more so, that light is shining brightly, and is filling life with hope, with excitement, with intrigue and in a work sense a wonderful sense of achievement that a project on something so new to me has been so well received.  

And even though I am facing yet another further surgery in just over 4 weeks time, things are good.

It's all good!

Life is good!

Loss

My heart, my soul, my depth of me
longs for you.

This unchangeable reality of distance
agonized me.

To see, to touch, to embrace you
beckons me.

A yearning to know, to comprehend
who you are.

Though, through the woe of want and time,
I feel the passion of my Divine
saturate me.

I have discovered an illusion of
sorrow and joy.

Sorrow for the loss,
Joy for knowing why.

Scissors

If I cut you off, chances are, you handed me the scissors. - unknown

Nothing more to be said.

Steps.

You write your first draft with your heart and you rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is to write, not to think.

Sean Connery, Finding Forrester.

For me, the key is having the time. The motivation. The inspiration.  And I haven't had any of those for so long.  It's been so long since I've written. So long since I've had the time to write.  Life is busy. Life is manically busy and there's no time to write let alone think!

On Wednesday, I stood in the Abbey at the funeral of a friend who was just 49.  A battle lost against bowel cancer.  And standing there as I watched her two teenage daughters talk of their Mum, it hits home just how precious life is.  How so easily life can be taken away, that it is so short.  She was making the most of her life, doing the things that she loved to do, right up to the end, right to the moment that the damn awful disease that cancer is stripped her body of life.

It makes you realise that sometimes, just sometimes, things have to take a back seat, that there are things that must come first.  Whether things are from the head or the heart, the first key is to take the moments that we have, to take the opportunities, the chances, the risks.  Because it can be over all too quickly.

There can be times, there can be moments when something so beautiful comes into our lives, completely out of nowhere.  We may not understand it, we may want to question it, but sometimes we have to trust in it. Trust in ourselves, trust in the ability to make and take the right decision, the right path for ourselves.  It may not work. But sometimes, perhaps we just need to have a little faith.  Perhaps we just need to take a step into the unknown, for as I've been reminded this week, we never know if that step may be our last.

Sian. Rest in peace and free from pain.

Blossom

I want to write. I need to write.  I've not done a great deal of it of late. I've gotten a few words down recently, but it's not how I want the words to flow, to be released, to be.

And it is frustrating.

I want the words to come, floating like the blossom that is falling from the trees. And they don't.

And I think of you. And how you left on the same breeze, fading into the distance, like the blossom blown away and never to return.  Now I know why they name hurricanes. They leave their mark, their name. Their force and strength.

I wonder what we would have named you.

 

Dreaming

I had a dream last night.

The whole events of "letting go" as I wrote about HERE in April of last year replayed themselves in my mind.   And I have woken this morning feeling that whole sense of emptiness that overwhelmed me at that moment I stood up and walked away, the moment that the heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was as if it happened only yesterday, and yet it seems a lifetime ago.   But I am somewhat taken aback at how fresh those memories are, the feelings, the emotions, the sadness, of how vivid the look of pain in his eyes can still haunt so many months later.

I know what caused it to be in my dreams, I know that something happened yesterday, something that someone said, was just like hearing something from all that time ago.  Same words. Same sentiment. Different person.

I am not sure how JoJo and I have not crossed paths since last November, in fact, I thought I saw him pass outside my office window as I daydreaming out of it this morning.  And it is strange how he doesn't come to mind and yet not only last night did I relive that whole moment, and then today, I had a fleeting glimpse of someone who was so much like him pass outside the window.

Someone commented on a post about JoJo recently, saying that I gave him the gift of opening him up to be the person he was, so he could be the person he wanted to be, that I had accepted him in a way that others close to him hadn't. But that, however hard, letting him go was, that was also a gift to him.

But at times, even now, it doesn't feel like a gift.

The sadness of his eyes can haunt, I know that it hurt him, and yet it was the last thing that I would ever want to do on an emotional level (hurting him from a sadistic point of view is a completely different kettle of fish), but, I know that it did.  And yet, I know it was the right thing, and I hate that there is a little seed of doubt from the dream I had last night as to whether it could have been different.

Because I know it could not have been. 

Of course it couldn't.  Not really. No matter how much we may want something to "be", we cannot make it "be" if it really stands no chance of ever being.

Yes we can make things happen, we can make things work, but, only if they are on the same page, wanting the same things, needing the same things.  And he and I weren't, we didn't.  And it still makes me feel somewhat sad, in a melancholic way, of having to let go so completely, so totally. 

With such total finality.

I miss the conversations we would have, the way we would explore the depths of his mind, finding an understanding for his longings, his needs, the things for which he carried so much shame.   I miss the times we laughed, the times we shared, I miss his vulnerability and the way his eyes would drop, the way his cheeks would blush and burn.  The way he would plead for more and then beg to stop.  The conflict of his desires battling at force with the thoughts in his mind.

But despite that, or even because of all of that, it was the best thing for him.

Yes I know.

But, that aside, there's that little tiny part of me that sometimes wished that it didn't have to be that way. We could have continued to share so much, but there would always have been the things missing from what we needed, I didn't want to resent him, I didn't want him to resent me.   I could have taken almost what I wanted, but couldn't do that to him.

Blegh! Dreams.

How difficult they can be at times, re-living a situation, a moment in time that was always best left in the past.   And it was. It is.  And I need to shake this feeling. 

At times like this, insomnia and not being able to dream is a little more appealing! 

A life has ended.

They bury him today. 

Someone who should have had a whole life ahead of him.  Someone who decided that it wasn't what they wanted.

There are no words that can take away or ease someone's pain and grief.  There is nothing that can be said to make it better.  Just the heart wrenching pain that you feel from the void that someone's passing has left, the sense of grief.  The sense of loss.  But also the questions that will never be, can never be answered.

I hope, that he is at peace.

I hope that he finds the peace in his mind in death that he could not find in life.

A parent should never have to bury their child, it should just never be that way.  The pain and grief in her eyes betrayed the outer sense of calm that she portrayed as she told me.  One can never truly know what is going through another person's mind, to take them to that place where there is just no other answer.

May he rest.  In peace. 

Burning bridges

"My girlfriend doesn't understand me".

How many times do you hear it? I hear it so much it drives me round the twist.  I understand that there are many people in relationships where their "other half" doesn't understand them or their needs.  It may be that I do understand the needs that they may have.  But, I'm not the gf!

"I don't get what I need from my relationship".

How many times do you hear it?

Probably as much as I do.  And yes, I understand there are a whole lot of people who don't get what they need from their relationship ~ I didn't from mine so it is in the past.  Everyone has the ability to change this.

But what is so frigging annoying are those who complain and moan about how their relationship isn't right, that it doesn't meet their needs, that they aren't able to be what they are or what they need to be.  But do absolutely nothing to change it.  It goes on for years and years without ever changing.  But I don't know what they expect me to do . . .

I can't change it.

Only YOU can.

You are the one in that relationship. You have the ability to change it.  You have the ability to be able to be who you are, what you are, but in a relationship that is right for you.

No-one can make those changes for you.

But, while you are in that relationship, nothing, will ever go beyond a friendly chat, I will be an understanding friend.  Nothing more.

It's not my style. It's not my scene. It's not my thing.

But on the same subject, don't think that you can "pick up" and "put down" when it suits you, don't think that you can "come and go" as you wish, when you wish.  Don't think that you can pick up when it suits, put down while a temporary "alternative" comes along and think that it will be ok when you come to "pick up" once more.

It maybe "ok" in your book.

It isn't in mine.

You may think that it is a good way to treat someone.

I don't.

Bridges burn . . .don't try crossing it again!

Letting go

You didn't ask, but tentatively your hand reached out to my own that was resting on the table.  And gently your fingers found their way around my hand, your grip tightening with every passing second.

Our drinks remained untouched, the ice slowly melting, watering the drinks down even more.  Words remained unsaid.

I had wanted to take my hand away.  I didn't want to give you anything to hold onto; there was nothing to hold on to.

You squeezed my hand, I could sense the pleading within your touch, the way you tried to gain a response from me as you stroked my hand with your thumb.  I tried to resist the sparks that it sent through my body.  I was desperate not to let you know that my stomach was in knots, that although the electricity between us was clearly felt, it was not enough.  That it could never be enough, especially when the things that were wanted were oh so much more.  I know that while we could give so much, it would always fall short.  We would always be both left unfulfilled.  Cheating each other out of what we ultimately wanted.  We would always feel shortchanged.  And that gave room for unhappiness, resentment even.  


It was better this way. Even if it didn't feel like it.

We didn't notice the people around us, those who came and went.  We didn't notice the people that passed by, the ones who sat nearby or indeed anyone else.  We didn't notice the people on the other side of the room who sat and watched us and the painfully sad moment that we were engulfed within.  I continued to look ahead, not needing to glance in your direction, not needing to look at you to witness the sadness and begging from your eyes.

I couldn't bare to see you this way, I couldn't bare how you just couldn't let go.  I couldn't bare farewells and goodbyes.  But we knew that was what was coming.  We both knew it was what was needed.  And yet we both knew it wasn't as easy as saying goodbye.

Your eyes caught mine.  And the emotions that came from your eyes tore at my heart.  Your eyes screamed and begged and yet there was no sound.  Your hand gripped my own tighter pleading with the same intensity, and as I glanced away I noticed the single tear that gently fell from the corner of your eye.  Your other hand reaching up to discreetly wipe it away before anyone else witnessed it.

"I can't do this" you whispered.  "I don't want things to end this way."

"But we can't do this either."

"I can't say goodbye." 

"So don't say it.  Just turn and walk away."

"I can't."

My heart was pounding.  Part of me wanting to take his face in my hands and kiss him deeply.  Part of me wanting to revel in his tears.  Part of me wanting to force him over the table and hurt him.  Part of me wanting to hold him and to whisper that it would be ok.

But, there was the part of me that knew that this was the right thing.  For him. For me. For us. For everything.

It didn't make it any easier.

It doesn't make it any easier knowing that it is the right thing when there's a part of you that doesn't want to believe it is the right thing.  But deep down you know.  Deep down you just know it is the right thing.  It doesn't stop it hurting.  It doesn't stop it reaching in and squeezing the life out of your heart, twisting it, turning it, hurting it before placing it back inside.

I gently pulled my hand from his.  Not daring to look at his face, his eyes or the sadness within.

"I can't do goodbyes."

 "I can't just walk away."

And with that, I stood up.  Knowing that what I was about to do was for him, for the best even though a part of me didn't want to let go.

"I can.  I will.  For you. For the best."

"But is it? For the best?"

And I stood, touching his face gently with my hand. Not daring to look at him, my heart feeling like a mirror hitting the floor as it shattered into a load of tiny pieces.  And as I started to walk away, my own tear matching his, I simply whispered "Yes JoJo. It is." 

Lingering taste

It had been over a year since I had seen you last, but I knew at the moment that I saw your face again, that I wouldn't be seeing it again after this.

I sat in the passenger seat of your car, but the distance between you and I was oh so much greater.

The coldness of the lack of words could have turned our lips to ice, and it was clear that the water hadn't yet passed under the metaphoric bridge.  

You had started to drive and I had wished that I hadn't stepped into your car at all.

But I had.

It was my choice.

I needed to know that although I felt it was the last time, that I had to make sure that it was.  I don't know why I was doubting myself.  Maybe it was because of that water that hadn't quite passed beneath that bridge.  But whatever it was, it made me step into your car.

Your words drove over the past, raking it up, just like we had raked over so many times before.  Your voice was breaking, I refused to look at you, refused to acknowledge the pain in your eyes.  You kept it in, just in the way that you always had tried to when we had first met.  I remembered the first time that you had allowed the tears to fall, that you had given in to those feelings, those emotions, those tears for me.  But, that ability to keep it all in, was something that had never truly left you.  A pretence of a strength that you felt you had to show, as if showing the emotion, the feeling, the truth was a sign of an inner weakness that we know wasn't there.

You had stopped in the layby only just out of sight.  There had been times when we hadn't even worried about that, stopping where or when we had needed or when the desire had become too much.  And we began to make a journey mixed with longing and lust but most certainly nostalgia.

Your hands made their way to touch me.  I leant back, closed my eyes, lost to the moment that hadn't been felt for so very long.  You asked to taste me.  To taste me before we parted ways, and in silence as I watched the lines of headlights pass by the car casting shadows over your face that I knew every inch of, I knew for sure that it was the last time. 

You drove me home then.

And as I walked up the pathway and stood at the front door, I watched you touch your lips with your fingers, and knew that you had discovered the lingering taste of a final goodbye.

Reminders . . .

"When someone is truly in your heart, they are never truly gone. They can come back to you even at unlikely times" 

For One More Day, Mitch Albom


It seems an age ago that I lost you.  And even back then, I missed you more than you know.

I still do. 

When someone is in your heart, they are never truly gone. 

Somedays, I wish you were.

I wish you were gone.

I wish the memories and feelings and all that was, was gone.  I know that what was, will never be again.  And although the memories come back, goddamit I don't want them back anymore.  I don't want anything anymore!!!

They came back.

The memories. Not all of them good. But I know that you won't.

Time may take away the harsh edges of the memories. It takes away the hurtfulness of the words that you spoke.  It takes away the ugliness of what you were capable of; of what you did.  Thankfully time and distance smoothes the edges. 

But I wish time would wash them all away, like the sea washing over the sand, smoothing it over leaving no traces of anyone that has been there before it.  I want that sea to wash over me, my heart, the debris that you left in the wake of your storm.

But even though it was hard.  Even though the final "goodbye" was something that I had to do.  It is still difficult.  It is still hard.

Goodbyes are never easy. Even when you know that they are the right thing to be doing.

You played a big part in my life, and even though some of that was so toxic, I know that was because of what infected you, and not "you".  It was so rare though, that the "you" was something witnessed.  I know that I was priviledged to see "you". I know so few have.

I miss "you", the real you. The you that you enabled me to see. To know. To care for. To love. 

That distance that has been there since we started the separate paths has never felt so great.  I find myself wondering how you are. How things are. Whether you continue to get the help that you need. Whether you are still in the same place that makes you push everyone away, especially those that care.  But always me.  It has always been me that you have pushed away. 

I would be lying if I said that it didn't hurt. 

It does. 

I don't miss the brutal and ugly words that at times so easily fell from your mouth.  I don't miss the way that you felt it ok to treat people as you did.  But I do miss you. 

And I thought of you today. 

The thought of you and the feelings that came, starting in the depths of my heart, in the pit of my stomach and I felt it rising to my eyes.  I couldn't fight it anymore, fighting the tears that I have fought back for you for so long.

I hate to cry. I mean REALLY hate it. 

And I wanted to scream at you. Why? Why did you? Why did you do it?

Why . . . .?

I tried so hard to do what I could. What I thought that you wanted and needed at that time.  I tried so hard not to be worried or angry, or hurt by your actions.

I was all of those things.

And although I still am, the passing of time takes away the harshness of it all.  And yet, even now, you find a way in. Find a way to bring those feelings back to the surface with their full force.

Your words resonate in my mind.  My heart carries the scars that you inflicted upon it.

It didn't make sense. 

You didn't make sense. There was no real reason. There was no explanation.  You were selfish.

You always were.

You could be so strong at times, but so damned weak and cowardly on others. 

And as I thought of you today, I felt so much anger at you.  A burning intense anger that made me want to scream!!!!

Angry that you've made me feel this way. That even after this passing of time, that even from a distance, the tears finally came about you. 

And who would have thought that they would come now?

After all this time?

After all that you put me through.

They come now.  What the hell is that all about?

Fuck you!