An old poem of mine dug up today:

Breaking silence in the Night

“I need to be with other people”

I understood
I accepted
I was fine
How could I be fine?
I should have been cut
It should have hurt
I wasn’t surprised
Almost as if
I had already known
Or felt the same

For myself

The thought of freedom
Intoxicated me
Because he’s always in my mind
Whether or not he tries
Encouraging my soul
Babysitting the good in me
Thoughts of all the dark paths
I could take
Excite my heart
Oh, the beautiful blemishes
I could create
No longer having to be
Good enough
For him

Today I am in a much better place with the other person involved in this poem, and in many ways I am in a better place with myself. Reading this is like reading the story of a past life, and I feel nothing negative towards it, it feels so detached from the people we are now.