All Done

For once, in a long while, I'm not thinking about you. I'm not wondering what you are up to. Not wondering how you're spending your days, your nights, your weekends. Not giving any thought at all to whether or not you have finally gotten a job and moved out of your crazy mothers house. None of it matters any more. Not like it ever should have in the first place. But it did at one point in time. It did for a long time. I often thought that I would never get past you or your memory. But, for the first time, I think that day has finally presented itself to me. I know that by making mention of it I'm going against all that I just said, but I needed to mark this down in history. I don't want to think of you on your birthday. I don't want to think of you at all. I don't want to look out the streetcar window when I glide past your house and check to see if you are standing on your front stoop. I've seen you there you know. You are EXACTLY the same. I have no idea how that is possible. For somebody to stay the same for so long. Especially when they need to change to better themselves and their situation. But whatever. I am no one to judge. And like I said, I don't want to think about you anymore. The space you have been renting in my head for so long is no longer available. So pack up your twisted shit and get the hell out. The scars run much deeper than skin, but I'm okay with it. I'm a different person for it. Good luck to you. Good luck to myself. Almost three years now. I wish I could hate you, but that would take too much energy. The words for you are done now.