The hardest part...

Pacing through my house...

thinking.

Thinking about everything.

My coping mechanisms involving food will be the death of me one way or other.

but that's not the issue at hand.

I'm thinking about why making this leap pf faith into this pretty picture you makeshifted is so difficult.

I'm pondering possible solutions:

1. I've still not forgiven you

I can still feel the punches to my face as I lay helpless on the ground as well as the stabs at my feelings

2. I still care a great deal about my ex.

No mutual friend set us up, we weren't even looking, we found each other, serendipitously, and it was beautiful.
Like a cloudless night sky in the middle of a summer out of the city.
Oh, how the stars shined bright on us.
I will never allow you or anyone to ever tell me what we had, although ephemeral (thanks to you and your minions) , wasn't real.

3. Even after the smoke cleared, I found a way to be happy... alone.
When I didn't think about you or anyone, I started to feel great about my life.

If I can feel that invincible on my own, what makes you think I'd want or need you?

All you do is make anxious. You pressure me, and not in a good way. Sure, your work ethnic helps where mine is lacking, but with a decent job and some money in my pocket, I have to work even harder to cater to your feelings despite how I feel in section one here.
That sort of dissonance, I cannot bear.

I was free for moment. I was happy. WTF happened?

You. You and your rushing.
You and your whining about how you have needs for affection and attention as if we all don't need those things.

You and your constant disrespect for my emotions.

I've compromised enough and even against the best advice I've gotten I still chose to let you back in.

I'm ready to be alone again. I miss it.