Your attention was a drug.
I lied to myself for months.
Months that stretched into a handful of years;
about how all I wanted from you was your love.
Maybe that was true, but underlying that was the reality that I was drawn to your inability to choose me.
I was hooked onto your unpredictability;
you never replied fast. I always had to wait several hours or even days for a reply.
I was hooked onto the ambiguity;
you never gave me clear answers.
I had to read between the lines, even when you drew them so far apart that everything
and nothing
could be interpreted.
I used the ambiguity of your answers,
to make room for hope.
It was a hope
that one day, you will finally understand that what we have between us was worth fighting for.
But it was also a hope
that drove me deeper into my insanity,
and further away from my soul.
I lost myself, while fighting for a love you never wanted ever since.
I was hooked onto your attention.
Because lying deep within me, was a dark pool of
words.
Words that slid close together to whisper about how,
besides you?
Nobody else would ever see me the way you did back then,
nobody else would ever buy me flowers the way you did,
nobody else would ever write me letters without me asking them to,
nobody else would ever hold me as gently and yet firmly the way you did.
Nobody else would find me worthy of the love you gave to me back then.
And now, I sit here in my room.
My heart beating silently as I look at how far I’ve come
and gone from the idea of you and us.
You may have not been predictable, nor clear.
You may have been playing your games,
and unfortunately you felt it was okay to cost me while you get what you desired.
But I am clear,
that even if nobody else would ever do those things for me the way you did back then?
I am not going back to you.
I am not going back to a space where there was such a lack of respect for me,
a lack of honour even.
I am not going back to your attention, which was my drug.
I have been breaking out of my patterns of falling back into the idea of you and us.
3 months ago, I broke out.
Now, I’m staying out.
And I’m proud of myself, because you were a drug I didn’t know about.
I thought it was love.
Now?
I don’t know anymore,
but more importantly,
I don’t care.
Whether it was love or not,
I don’t care.
Your attention was my drug.
I’m done with this one.
