Several times, X has referred to our past relationship as his first "grown-up" one. Having only little insight on his previous relationships, I have no idea if this is true. I think I have grown up while we were together. I know loving him has made so much more aware of what I want in myself, and yes, of what I want in my friends too.
Why is it difficult to shed our old skins?
I laugh and banter with him, and I feel no pain yet. He does not love me and I am not shattered. Yes, the world is infinitely different now that I have no one in particular to share it with. But I no longer wish for a different outcome. I am happy with myself, and there will be good days, bad days, perfect moments and distressing anguish.
All in all, a life worth living.
I smile at him this morning during the concert. I wonder how he feels during Kodaly, and I enjoy my own enjoyment. Suddenly I no longer care.
I like it.
I walk back home in heels.
The scent of his skin. The weight of him on me. The colour of his eyes, crinkling up when he smiles up at me. Over.
My tenderness for him. Our complicity. Our senses of humour. His new life and future battles. Yes, I'll be in the sidelines, and someone else will be the sweetheart, the ferret, the beautiful girl, but I will be cheering all the same, so he gets what he fights for.
And now I must work.
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