what is this feeling?

my heart feels as though it’s throwing itself into the deep end. but my heart is young and naive and unaware. so i sit in this abyss without the tools, or words, to ask for help.

is it selfish to have a preference? is it wrong to ask for boundaries; and for others to respect them? with you, it feels exactly like that— that advocating for myself is too much.

it’s too much to ask for—my love reciprocated. it never is. not with you. you make excuses and half-hearted attempts at easing my soul.

yet, you and your soul desire to lay with someone else. am i supposed to just be okay with that? no. and i’m not and i won’t ever be. you feared resentment, but alas.

resentment eases itself into the fixtures of my heart— it replaces the love that was there. warmth for barren winds, a house for a tacky shack.

you’ve taken everything, and not that there was much to take. but the same way a poor man’s charity is more valuable, is the same way that taking from those who are poor is to ignore the efforts of survival.

you ignore me and my life; and of my longevity. i am as passing as a thought or a quick hand on the shoulder; but i am nothing more to you than that.

and for that, i am utterly hurt. offended. all that time and energy to be met with the feeling that i’ll never be enough; certainly not for you. i’m done with accepting that.

i am enough; and i know that i am. i don’t need you. i don’t want you. there’s nothing about you that entices me anymore; nothing about you that maintains the respect i had for you.

you’re gone, and this is gone. i don’t feel bad; i feel angry and vengeful. i wish you could feel the way my heart aches—the unrelenting sensation that life could be eased if someone could just ease it.

i thought that was you.

i was so clearly, utterly, and blindly ignorant to believe that it was you.

it’s not. and it won’t ever be.

tough shit, right?