Did I love her? No.
Did I like the way she made me feel? At times.
Do I blame her for the damage? I only blame myself.
One of the many things that I have grown to hate about myself is the fact that I grow attached. Yet, one of the things that I love, is my ability to love. I've realized that most of my sorrows were caused by my own self delusion, but I can't help but place the blame on the both of us for what has happened…
She was my best friend, we had known each other since forever and she knew everything: my strengths, my weaknesses, my emotions, and my limits. But then she left, not leaving an empty space, but rather healing craters in my personality that were left by her impact.
It forced me to realize that we're all playing the same game and there can only be a certain amount of winners. I became so accustomed to being depressed, that I felt guilty for being neutral, but, this feeling isn't permanent. It's nearly one of the many obstacles that humans have to fight in our lifetime. Being happy and being successful is so much more than just doing. Anyone can do, those who have truly made it do and think. Even today, I still think about the girl who left, but I use these thoughts to push on through all the hard times I am forced to face.
She told me what to do. She told me what to say. She was in control; all I was allowed to do was watch. I was considered the perpetrator, because I was the only physical face present. I was all that you could see. Therefore, it had to be carrying out these actions, right?
Her thoughts and extremes were like chains. Every day she made sure I was chained down just enough to react, but not enough to escape. I soon learned how to hide myself entirely, because she was the one living my life.
I broke the chains.
Through constant tugging and straining, I had been able to catch glimpses of a beautiful reality, one that promised control and freedom. One that was full of love and nurture. One that promised that I would be able to live the life that I deserve. I used those glimpses as tools and wore away at the steel vines attempting to hold me back. Once I gained the control I needed to fight back, I was pulled into an internal conflict. One that would last a second, yet would feel like ages.
It was extreme vs. rationality.
We both had passion, we both had smarts, but in the end she grew tired of my persistence and left. She's not completely gone, this I know, but what little pieces of her she has left behind, her creativity, her skillfulness, I nurture and keep tucked away for good use.
In the end I began to realize that I wasn't fighting another person, I was fighting myself. I was fighting for stability. And with stability comes the ability to live without fear.