Fuck you! You caused all this emotional shit. Sounds like I’m still hurting? No I’m not. I’m speaking truth.

You with the calming, mellifluous voice that I fell inlove with before we met in person. I should have ripped your heart out with my bare hands then eat it. Sounds harsh right? Nah it’s not.  It’s freeing.

You with the easy going demeanour, gentle touch and soft lips. You with the jingling cat that frightened the shit out of me and made me fall off your bed once as I slept. The thought of you dying still hurts me. No he’s not dead, just saying I still care.

You looked like a handsome black latin dancer the first time we met. You smelled and felt like heaven. It’s been over 15 years but I remember it like yesterday. Your mom left for the weekend and we were going to make the best of it.

We fit, at least in my mind.

Your mom came home early. She took the back door. Remembering that the evidence was strewn all over the living room you ran out in an attempt to gather what you could. You came back short one piece. Do you remember the look on my face when I told you you left my underwear? I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me when I heard a male’s voice; she brought company, your uncle. Ah hell!

You ran out the room trying to beat them to it and came back a little while after to let me know your mom spotted it before her brother and stashed it in the bathroom before you could get to it. I wanted to melt into the cracks of the wall. I wondered how early I could leave without being seen? But frig me! I couldn’t. You’re uncle was camping out in the living room. I had to ride out the night.

Your mom got up at the crack of dawn to start breakfast. There was no escaping we were all having breakfast. I had to avoid her for as long as I could.  She’s in the kitchen I can make it to the bathroom without being spotted. Holy shit! Take me now. I bolt from the bedroom to the bathroom at the same time she was bolting from her bedroom to the kitchen. We almost collided. Broad smiles and quick good mornings and then dust, like in a cartoon, when we went our desired direction. Remember what she said to you when we were leaving the house that morning? I do.

I love your mom. We had shit in common. I spent an entire weekend with you and her. You both taught me so much. I would hear your voice without even paying attention. I loved you deeply then you got distant. Called me one night to tell me you cheated with Miss Blonde. How could you? I was faithful. Was I that horrible a girlfriend? I admit, I was young and didn’t know much but I was sponge around you. I hung on your every word. I loved you.

I forgave you but lost myself trying to hang on to something you didn’t even want. When did you decide to stop stringing me along? Was it the day you told me she was spending the weekend with you. Or was it after she disrespected me and I called you out on it?

That was the longest walk from Hilton to LOJ. You bullshitted me, talking about it was her short shorts that got you. Really?! I took it because I’m not one for drama it was obvious I was no longer wanted.

I thought about how I’d kill you. It came to me the day I saw you and her walking down Knutsford Boulevard. I was behind you both. You had no idea what could have happened; oblivious about your possible demise. I was willing to be incarcerated. I saw her everywhere. My brother made serious fun of me and still does, only now it rolls off my back without staining. I would look at myself in the mirror because it had to be how I looked. I didn’t have a flat stomach. My skin wasn’t as light as hers. I didn’t come from a “rich” background. I’m not as talkative as her as I would rather observe. It took me quite a while to break that and learn to do both quickly. I think I would look good on your arms in a business dinner setting. I could even learn what each utensil did so I wasn’t embarrassing. I could learn more about your job and its many tentacles so I could actively participate in a conversation. I could master you. SMH.

I’m not sure when I snapped out of that feeling probably year 2. I still followed your career, even now, as much as I can. I became your friend. I checked in on you ever so often. Asked about your mom. I miss her. I don’t trust the words that come out your mouth now. Feels like you’re trying to make up for something by sugar coating the truth but that could be my mind again.

A lot of months ago we were messaging each other and it wasn’t until after the heavy flirting that I realised what I just did. I was resembling Miss Blonde, it’s your pattern. I know you’re in a relationship and have a child, probably married too and we have cracked a door with alot of danger behind it.

I’ll stop the cycle, it’s obvious you can’t. Did you ever stop to think how our break up affected me? Did you ever think, as you wrote those words, what a meeting like that would do to me afterwards? I’m sure you didn’t.  The repercussion is usually lost on the perpetrator. I’m not a victim and I refuse to be anything less than the best to me. Self care has become very important and you’re messing with it.

I picked myself up eventually. I remember telling you I was over you and the tone in your voice suggests that you were disappointed in that revelation. I think about everyone at one point or another. Did I ever cross your mind without a sexual undertone? I bet not.

To the man who was my first love that broke me for a long time, I eventually saw through you, I still see you, but if you ever think about messaging me, I hope it doesn’t cause me to rethink our friendship.

Love and light.