Why it's OK to insult you now

I miss you a lot.  Hundreds of times a day.

 

But I'm also certain you'll gloat and use that information against me.  Or, more harmfully, do what you always do:  ignore any one you feel you have in your control.

 

I stopped saying "I love you" five years ago (that was more than a decade after you stopped saying anything meaningful about me).  You don't care why so I'll explain:  the minute I said I love you, you ignored me for a week or two.

 

Every single time.  You ignored me.  Your rudeness doubled.

 

That's why I value my anger:  it's the only tool I have to drive you away.  You are toxic, and because you get rejected by your lovers, or don't have enough of them, you come back.  Three times so far.  And I let you stomp all over me, insult me, hurt me.  For 28 years of total hostility.

 

You put a million times more time and energy into campaigning for my destruction than you put into actually developing your capabilities.

 

Same with all the rest of us in your discard pile.

 

I can't keep you from hurting me.  But I can keep you out of my zone of safety by staying hot, raging, insultingly angry.  At you.  You make that easy. 

 

Anger is my burning circle of fire.  Stop.  You can never enter.

 

(I learned much of this language from my abused spouse support group.  The rest from reading recommended books about healing and grieving that you don't know about. If I recommended them to you, you'd shit on them, too, for helping me so much.)