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it's painful keeping in a panic attack.
it feels like you're feeling
the trauma all over again. constantly reliving
the rejection and moments of intense humiliation
all in the comfort of your own bed.
i thought i was over her.
i thought i must be over her if i was over him,
if i could no longer be hurt by him.
but i realise now that that is not the case.
she is one of the deepest insecurities that digs deep into my soul.
that courses through my once-thought-to-be barred and guarded veins.
at first, i guilted myself, thinking that if i was still bothered by her it meant i was not over him, that he still had an affect on me.
but i have assured myself enough to know that he no longer does,
that he is not the first person i think of in the morning
or the last before i sleep,
no.
he no longer gets that privilege of prancing around my dreams aimlessly.
but the mark they left behind still continues to seep into my heart,
like acid,
burning and incinerating anything in its path, albeit a vein or artery.
the now deceiving scar that once signified battle scars from the war between my heart and my mind
have now begun to show its true colours,
with brooding blood escaping and dripping away from its habitat.
i felt
for the longest, most excruciating five minutes i have ever experienced,
empty.
timid.
lifeless.
paralysed from all emotion.
for the smallest second even
i felt dead.
perhaps in another life,
her and i may have gotten along,
become friends even.
but not in this,
never in this.
she made it clear from the start
and continues to.
but to find so many things
i have in common with her
hurts me to my core.
keeps me wondering what it was that made her simply
better.
it no longer matters making him happy,
or simply one upping her.
but it'll always be one of life's greatest mysteries to me.
what made her better?
what made her so good
that it was worth leaving me so hurt?
i didn't mean to think about this,
i was just harmlessly scrolling. and then,
i saw her.
doing what i do.
again.
something in common.
and it absolutely devastated me, this was finally something
i could do for myself, something
that would bring me joy even in the darkest
of times.
my hobby.
mine.
and she took that away.
by doing it too.
i'm afraid.
i'm afraid that i will no longer be able to be the same if
i can't do it anymore. but i'm more frightened at
the idea that every time
i do it, i'll think of her.
this time,
with a different him,
a better him.
and yet,
in the end,
she'll get the better him,
but this him was mine, he is mine.
and mine only.
yes, there are probably others,
and i wouldn't mind sharing him,
but not with her,
never with her.
but
after all,
he is not real.
i can't take him away for my own personal welfare.
i have no choice.
just like him.
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