A year ago, I existed in your world physically; pretending I fit, but knowing I did not. I remember laying in your bed, writing about something I entitled "the true story of what was and is." It was all about the myths you told yourself about what things were like when we were 19, 21, 23, and beyond. It was all about the myths you continue to tell yourself about those times and now... In order to support the ultimate myth that how you act is ok; not mean....

It reminded me that I was not insane, despite everything you and your friend did to convince me that your truth was my truth, and the real truth. And I wanted that to be true because if it was, I could believe that you actually did love me, and that your fucked up behavior wasn't as fucked up and self-supporting as it was.

I remember writing that I had always told myself I would not be one of those stupid grrls that fell for your bullshit;  supporting your ultimate myth of victimhood with passive voice sentences and pathetic half-truths... and how I was, at that moment, one of those stupid fucking girls. I felt like the worst feminist in the world not only for thinking of those womyn who fell for your bullshit as stupid, but also for being one of those stupid girls. 
But the "True Story of What Was and Is" is now gone; deleted in a desperate attempt to free up space on my hard drive, both physically and metaphorically. 

It's a shame, because I think it was pretty smart.

So, that's how I ended up here, reminicing about 1 year ago... sad and pissed off; wishing I didn't give a shit; knowing that I made the right decision; dreaming of others; cleansing myself of you.... finally not falling into the trap that all stupid girls seem to fall into... 

moving on. 

and that is the true story of what was and is.... 

Clouds stretch out over the sky, like lovers stretch out in my history; rare, thrown away and wispy; blown into the Pacific ocean. 
I carry the half-empty trash to the bin, all dressed up in red, with nothing to do and no one to call. 
My stomach pulses at the thought of you, knowing it is done; pissed off, sad, and angry over it all.
I can't decide if I feel more alone with or without you.
I look up at the sky, noticing how the clouds blend together in that way they sometimes do... when I can't tell where one ends and the next begins.
And I wish that was how it was with you.
Instead, there is a distinct moment when you began. I can picture exactly where I was, where you were, what we were doing and how it felt.
And then suddenly, you were everything in my life-- my thoughts, movements, ideas, and body were filled with you.
I lived like that, not allowing anything else in, not even myself for some crazy long time...
It felt like longer than I had done anything.
I became exhausted and empty... All that once filled me had been replaced by you and everything you needed and wanted. The line between you and me had completely disappeared.
And then suddenly, just like it had began, it was over.
I remember exactly where I was when it ended; how it felt and what I was doing.
And then everything turned wispy, like the clouds on Thanksgiving, blown into the Pacific Ocean.
Now I can barely hold onto anything. My grasp is a complete failure and I spend almost every moment alone, looking up at the sky, reminiscing about lovers blown into the Pacific ocean like the wispy clouds of the San Francisco bay.