I'm supposed to get over this but it lingers in my mind.
It's kinda like when you get bitten by a cat until you bleed...sometimes, you wonder where is that damned cat now?
Before, you played with the cat, loving it as your own friend. So you can't really fathom why it bit you. But it did. And you cried.
You reminisce the good times, sometimes smiling at the thought. But then the questions resurface, and then you were taken back to what made you leave the cat. It was no good for you and you have to let it go.
I think that that person really wanted to push me away from the beginning, that is why all the things said and done is inconclusive, confusing and vague.
A passive aggressive stance of manipulative fighting: push things so high up that the person would fall without you actually tipping them off the edge. Guilt-free. No visible blood on your hands. But it's there. Believe me, you're soaked in it.
But as soaked as you are, I am the one falling and hitting the ground.
People say, "Hey, you are strong and I think you'll be alright"
I hate that, actually.
So what? Does that mean I deserve and should swallow it whole?
...don't go preaching me about destiny, or I'll punch you in the face.
But yes, I know I'll be alright. No doubt about that.