so, the ex contacts me to tell me he just read the blog. and thinks its about him. I’ve told him enough times not to read it. that nothing, even if he is in it, is about him. all me, all the time. And everytime he tells me he has read it, I feel like I need to go stand in the darkest corner of the house and never write again. and sometimes I have stopped, for ages.
so today, as a mark of noticing the dropped shoulders that I got from yelling alone in my kitchen?
I write. As an act of defiance, i write, however small a piece… because he got enough out of me already, and he can’t have anything else.
and i’m not being ‘too dramatic’, or ‘angry’, i’m just showing you how I save myself these days.
the sun is bright. and i’m still allright.