Muse is putting it lightly.
To call her a muse is almost a decade later, is a multitude of healed scars from top to bottom, is a dependence on the life I live under appropriate, supervised doses.
I always thought that I had the ability to be the bigger person. I’ve learned that I often don’t. But I bit my tongue nearly off to avoid screaming in her face three years ago, what do you fucking mean it wasn’t worth it?
And while that may have cut the deepest, it was what I had sought in so many other things and never found. Closure. I’ve never been so grateful to be freed from the clasp of a mild obsession. I threw everything away and three more years passed before I thought of her for the first time in a very, very long time.
And with absolutely zero emotion.
Fuck yeah.
-CJ
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