Two seconds

It took exactly two seconds of seeing you for everything to knock me over like I had just been hit by a hurricane. For every feeling to come back and to see the absolute contempt in your face when you realized it was me. For me to feel like crumpling in the middle of the supermarket and clutching my chest because it felt like my heart was about to rip out of it. But then my daughter pulled on my hand asking if we could go home yet. So I got the hell out of there and kept it together until we got into the car.

 

Then I fell apart. I let the panic and the pain take over and I started hyperventilating right in the fucking carpark. It wasn’t until I looked in the rearview mirror and saw my daughters confused face that I pulled it together. It was only then that I got my shit together so I could get her home and in bed. You make me feel like I am drowning with just a look, with a glance in my direction you let me know that I am irrelevant. And so I force myself to remember every reason why I hate you.  

 

You kept me like a god damned secret. Something that you were afraid to let others know. No one could know that we were together in the moments we were, no matter how brief. We were only to show pleasantries in the presence of others. So I put on a good show; you should have given me a gold fucking start for how much I held back. No caresses, no  private jokes, no compassion. I kept our secret, expected to not even confide in the closest of friends.

 

You treated me like I was option and for Christ sake I was sick of running second place. I was sick of being second to every God damned thing you did in your life. Every fucking thing. You made it easy for yourself to get from me whatever you needed and step on my neck after you were finished. You took my love, my spirit and my soul and you wrung them out of all of the feeling before giving them back like you were doing me some kind of favour.

 

You were the one who came back and swore to me that you would never leave me again that way, you promised me in such a way that I believed you. I stupidly believed that you could never leave like you did because surely I meant something to you if you came back.

 

I can’t keep falling apart in carparks or late at night when I think that no one is listening. I always thought that there was something poetic about heartbreak, like there was a beautiful side to it. I never saw it being me breaking down, unable to breathe because I fell for the wrong person. It was never meant to be like this and it was never meant to end like this; at least in my mind it wasn’t. You obviously had a completely different agenda.
But it was you that looked at me like I was scum. Like I was something that you stepped in. It was me that broke down in the carpark not you. You couldn’t care less.

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