It no longer meant anything to be there. It had long since ceased to be significant. I returned to the blog as a statement to myself. A one finger up. A sod you then.
I was reading the words of the man I once loved but hardly knew. Most of the words barely registered. I wasn't there for him. I was there because of now. It's the reason we make our lovers jealous, why we pretend not to care, why we are aloof. It's why we wrap our vulnerability up in a blanket of disinterested, when all we want is to be completely loved. So we grab the power back by doing something we don't really feel. We protest. We stamp our feet. Just so we feel less rejected.
Of course it doesn't really make any difference. It's no small victory. The victory only arrives in realising that there is no rejection, only someone else's choice, which might not reflect our own.
