For once you left me alone, suspiciously enough.
I got off at your station and walked through her house, I was too tired to go the long way, the snow has subsided yet the cold was the same inside. I imagined you chatting there, or walking out or into hers. I imagined you seeing me as I would just walk away in silence for I'm no longer fighting for what doesn't want to be for me.
The second I replied, she reached to you, she didn't answer to me anymore, nor did you. For the first time in a texted argument, you stopped. I guess this is what your heart desires, idealising someone new who's not new, but it's different kinds of fights you'll have.
At least I won't say and do everything wrong, I won't make everything about me, I won't complain too much, I won't gaslight you, I won't make you depressed and especially I won't have to deal with her anymore.
What a blessing to be free from being a mistake, though we both know I am and always will be just that: A waste of space, a mistake, an unworthy being who will never earn its right on this existences, or any other for that matter. Thank you, Mother, and thank you too.
It was the ambiguities that ended me: The look I saw that first time, the empty complaints, the "acquaintance" yet close enough friends for her to go through all this only to be able to talk to you again without remorse, the "if we bump into each other" while after the "good how she handled it" terminated in no more messages from you, despite the many times you've even shown up at my door unannounced.
It's different this time. It didn't take me long to join the dots and see that I was only a distraction during the main obsession, now I brought spice into your passionate existence and I can get off the pedestal, after all the mistakes, the lessons have been learnt and I don't want to be an unworthy waste of space anymore.
___________________________
How do I feel though? How does it work when I'm not writing for you?
I remember times of constant words, no stopping to think, just flow out of this brain that is now too putrid to bring anything to life. My memories are as damaged as my heart, and as I try to follow my thoughts, they leave sense behind as they dissipate into a thousand overwhelming birds of prey, ready to sing that same verse on and on.
Distraction, dissociation, same thing. Like weed, I can't focus anymore, how has my brain deteriorated so much in so little? Is it age that crawled on me silently? I am only 28 - old. Why can't I reach the depths anymore? Well, lovely, it is clearly because you have neglected your mind, going from emergency self-care to giving far too much, and so on, plus you have been scrolling mindlessly no matter the lack of energy, nor the screams of this dried brain of yours.
That lovely is what you have done again, because you are utterly incapable of managing life, over and over a failure, in ways you didn't even think you could ever be. The few things you thought you could handle well, well no!
I need to go to the sun, I need to stop being in a hurry and in the company of machines, I need to find some peace, and that can only be away from this place, putrid as my own brain, away from being a mistake.
But you know, idiot. No matter how far you go, you can't run away from these pains, these traumas... You will always be just a waste of space.