I’m not really sure how I feel about you right now. All I know is that my only lingering resentment is that you never gave me back my jacket. I had a dream about you last night, I don’t really remember the substance of that dream, but I know I felt fine when I woke up, so I suppose it couldn’t be all that bad.
Everyone has their doubts and fears, but why do I get the feeling that I have less than most?
Thinking about you doesn’t make me angry, or sad anymore. It makes me mentally sober. I can think about things clearly and I regret nothing. At least about us. To say that one has no regrets, at least wholesale, would be abnormally unreflective, but I think that we ran our course and the dissolution of our relationship was the logical end to the equation, though I imagine the final solution could have been handled with more couth and respect. Looking back I really don’t know why I expected you to handle the affair in any other fashion than what you did.
I suppose the thesis of this is to realize for myself that the past 6 years I should have tried to let this situation make me into a better person. I’m certainly happier but, that’s due to the fact that I married well. I’m certainly stronger, but that’s due to my resolve and determination to never be the victim, as opposed to exploiting everyone’s sympathies to gain an advantage. Maybe I’m emotionally compromised but, I won’t allow this to make me into a better person. A scar is more useful to me than a life lesson, but then again this situation is not without its lessons. For example, I was distrustful my nature before you, and now I’m more so; because I’ve learned to not take someone at their word.
I’m not a better person, I’m simply more pissed off, stronger and less forgiving. Not that being forgiving has ever mattered. You sure as fuck don’t need my forgiveness.