I just keep working, tying to pass the time, I wish I could say that with every passing day it gets easier, but that would be a lie. I get waves of anxiety… And when I am over come with them, I stalk your page. It’s almost uncontrollable at times. I am doing my best to let you go, but it’s proving very difficult.

I have stopped trying to figure out the why of it all.

Stopped asking the questions. Why did you come into my life, why did it have to be this way,  why didn’t it work out, those questions seemingly do not matter. I know deep in my heart I have to let you go. That you are in fact, not who you say you are, and truthfully, that while you love the me you think I am, you most certainly do not know the real me. The true me, the unclothed standing in front of you unedited version of me, because if you did.. How could you love that? I know I know don’t. And I see her every single day, or rather, try not to see her.

So, I try to stay busy, getting angry at the sexual innuendos you post to your other friends who are women on all your social media pages. Sometimes you are such a slut. It’s not hard to stay angry at you at all. Anger isn’t the emotion I want to dwell in for long, for now it’s my temporary friend aligning it’s intentions with my own, aiding me in letting you go.