Sometimes life saves you from what you want
So there I was, minding my own business waiting for the bus when you walked past. I recognized you in that brief instance when our eyes met. You walked a few feet further, but then did a double take which I was hoping you wouldn’t.
An awkward embrace ensued in which you reached for something between a hug and a kiss, which I was uncomfortable with so you ended up kissing my forehead. Pretending like we were long lost friends, meeting for the first time in the new year .
First things first: we’re definitely not friends. In fact, your number is on my blocked contacts list. Pity you haven’t got the sanity to realize how much you are the last person I’d ever want to see again!
Harsh maybe, but you are the person who stood me up on a rainy winter’s evening with no explanation, phone redirecting straight to voice-mail. Only to call me six months later like that all never happened.
Sometimes, I’m glad I live in a fish pond. Someone, somewhere knows everyone’s story. So when I heard that you are a functional addict and compulsive liar, it all made sense. You must have been high every single time you tried to call me afterwards, to the point where you literally pushed me to unkindness.
We never really got to know each other beyond the physical. You asked me once why I think I don’t deserve to be happy. Besides my private demons, it’s because I’m a terrible judge of character , believing in the best in everyone and blindsided every damn time!
I’ve been processing these feelings all week, wondering why seeing you again affected me so much. Besides the fact that you don’t look very well and I experienced a brief tinge of maternal worry, only to realize that I don’t owe you anything. I’m lucky I didn’t allow you to draw me back into your vortex of lies and deceit.
Take care of yourself! I’m not bitter, in fact I’m relieved. I kept thinking maybe I should have obliged you just once and given you a chance to explain your actions beyond what I heard through the grapevine, but to be honest, I don’t care anymore. Whatever your story was, it won’t be a chapter in my book, beyond these words.