Dear Narcissist,

You have been out of my life for many years now. People seem surprised when that particular fact comes up. Apparently, you not being in my life anymore is somewhat uncommon.

When I think of you, I see myself as a child rather than an adult. It’s not a pretty picture. I suppose that’s just the last time I felt secure and whole with you.

You see, I can no longer love or respect you. Sometimes when I reason a thing out with my words, I hear your breath on my back. I taste your evil in my eyes. You gave up on me the way a rotten peach has given up on pie.

I want to hate you and I want to love you. I want to tell you that you failed the entire world. I want you to see the anger and pain in my eyes without hearing a single response. I want you to be someone you are not.
You made my life a living hell, and then I let you cut me out. I had no choice; I needed to heal so that I could live in the real world with everyone else.

But then I think of that world you live in still; a world I lived in with you. I think of all the times I chose to defend the rotten peach as if it were a planet of it’s own. There are days I can look up into the sky and see the noxious green fumes, fruit flies the size of minivans.

I will always try to indict myself for my own mistakes & wrongdoings. But I did not make you. I was not the peach tree in the orchard. If you cannot prioritize me, if you cannot love me…that is not my fault.

So I let you cut me out. Now you are my tree in the orchard; the cycle continues. I will not rot under the vine with you. I will harvest myself. And when I smell divine on the windowsill, with Donald Duck floating towards me in the air, you will not be inside the filling nor the crust.

You will be no where to be seen but in my head, forever stuck in the compost bin.

A Frolicker of Fluidity

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