So, Mr Thief. It’s like that? Is it really like that? You did all that you did and you did it for many, many years and yet, years later . . . you’re still pissed. Really? No eye contact with me? No acknowledgement of my existence? What? I’m not worth it? I’m not worth your energy?
Were you not the one who pursued me? Were you not the one who proposed to me? Were you not the one who knew every ounce of everything about me? Were you and I not one for many, many years? Did you not know me inside and out? Were you not tattooed on my heart and accepted into my family? Did my friends not ask about you and about us all the time and love that I was with someone who had my back? Well guess what? The only back you had was your own. You never had my back.
You’re not a magician, you know. You can’t just abracadabra me and make me disappear. I’m still here. I’m right here. And guess what? I’m not going anywhere. And although I’m sure you’re dismayed about this fact, deal with it. When you see me, I hope your skin crawls. When you think of me, and I know you do, I hope goosebumps the size of meteors erupt on your flesh. When you hear my name, I hope your ears bleed. Why? Cause I’m still here. I’m thriving, when you thought I’d fail. I’m soaring, when you thought I’d crash. I’m living, when you thought I’d die.
It used to bother me when you didn’t acknowledge my presence. It used to shake me to hear the anger in your voice towards me. It used to piss me off when you’d give me the homeboy head nod instead of a cordial hello. It used to throw me into a tizzy when you’d discard my presence like yesterday’s trash. It used to hurt me to know that all of our years together meant nothing to you. It used to cut me to my core to see how you dismissed me from your life.
But guess what? I. Don’t. Care. Not anymore. I’m good. Oh, I’m so good now. In fact . . . I love that you run from me. I love that I make you uneasy just by existing. I love that you avoid me like the plague. I love that you go out of your way to avert your eyes when I’m near. I love that you love to hate me. And I know you do.
But you know what I love even more? I love that whenever you’re near, I no longer falter. My steps are sure footed and solid. I love that I have no more anger towards you and all you did to me. When I look back, you’re just an extra in the movie of my life. I love that I couldn’t care less about your new life and wife and kids and all this money you seem to be rolling in. She didn’t win. You’re no prize. I love that I’ve peeled you off of my skin, layer by layer. I really love that I love that you can’t stand me. That makes me smile. I love that I did nothing to you for you to hate me but yet you do. I smile even more at this. I love that I don’t think of you. Not. At. All. I love that I don’t need to know jack about you. I love that I don’t hate you. I love that I sorta pity you. I love that I can pray for you.
So Mr Thief, whenever we come face to face and you hastily flee, I love to see that. Whenever we are within a few feet of each other and you walk the opposite way, I love that you do. Whenever we attend a function and you sit on the opposite side of the room, I love, love, love that you do that too. Your actions tell me that the strength that emulates from my #StrongGirlGene is alive a kicking. The confidence I exude seeps through my pores and makes my skin tough like leather and strong like glue. With each diss you throw my way, I smile knowing you waste so much energy on me. But really Mr Thief . . . you not tired yet?
