It’s weird when you look at someone you used to adore and wonder how and why you did. I’m now there. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no hate and there’s no animosity, I just really don’t understand what or why it was that I felt like I fell for you so deeply.
We didn’t live in the same country. We weren’t very similar, actually, we were and are very different. You lied, a lot. I never trusted you – nor was I totally innocent myself. We never said I love you. We never made a commitment to live in the same country to be together. Our connection wasn’t passion, it was purely chemical, superficial, with a dash of friendship. If the connection was real, we wouldn’t be in the situation we are now in, four years to the month after that fateful St Patrick’s day afternoon.
Was I just caught up in the chase and thrill of it all? Did I just so desperately want you to be the band aid that mended the wound the Train Driver caused? Yeh, I
think know that is exactly what it was.
Do you know what the worst part is?
I always knew this – but I created the path and allowed myself to walk down it, right towards the dead end that it was always going to be. And it was your ego, feeding off my adoration, that thrived on and encouraged it all.
I’m not blaming you and I’m also not blaming myself but I can now happily say, Dear Trouble;
I am over you.”
distanced hearts club ♥