Out
Sometimes we have to destroy what makes us happy. I said good-bye to you more than a year ago and I am stronger. I see you as before lying beside me. A part of me wonders what if. But that is a small, insignificant part — a part curious for the sake of curiousity. The larger me cannot believe I lay with you. You made me happy then — happy but, in a larger scheme, depressed. A depression that craves happiness that eats it up wondering if it’s eternal bliss. All there is is relief.
The day I told you to leave, the day I stood cold while you packed, is the day I gained my freedom. Cigarette in hand, I had to hide a smirk, had to hide that I was happy you were leaving. I had to pretend that I was lonely, that I would miss you, that everyday I’d cry wondering if you were crying as well.
And now, I am the stronger. You are like the bees that forever buzz around my balcony. Annoying. Superficial. And can be killed with one slap.
————
CARD DRAWN:
EIGHT OF CUPS
THIS IS THE TAROT CHALLENGE, a 78-day writing challenge where everyday I pick out a random card from my tarot deck and write something about, against, inspired by, based on the card by the day’s end. The works can range from poetry to fiction to drama. When the card is from the major arcana, the title of the work should be the card name. When the card is from the minor arcana, the title can be different but the card drawn should be revealed at the end.
