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Loving, Leaving

What I miss most is how you loved me. But what I didn’t know was how you loved me had so much to do with the person I was. It was a reflection of everything I gave to you. Coming back to me. How did I not see that. How. Did I sit here soaking in the idea that no one else would love me that way. When it was I that taught you. When it was I that showed you how to fill. The way I needed to be filled. How cruel I was to myself. Giving you credit for my warmth simply because you had felt it. Thinking it was you who gave me strength. Wit. Beauty. Simply because you recognized it. As if I was already not these things before I met you. As if I did not remain all these once you left.

The words of Rupi Kaur. Steph recommended it to me and she did not disappoint. I see a lot of me in her work, Milk and Honey. How stupid I was when I loved him – he who chose another over me. And how stupid I was to think that he gave me the gifts I already had. I was warm, he felt it. But my beauty and wit … everything in between, was not created by him. Nor was it because of him. I have always been beautiful. Always full of wit, humor and love. He noticed. Someone else will, too. And I pray to God he won’t leave.

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