8-11

I have a new tribe, a People. I am a Person Who Has Loved now. An honor, frankly, I could have skipped.

But they tsk and shake their head for me. They hug me and smile. They say, “We’ve all been there.”

They smell like rising bread, and dabs of hemorrhoid cream under their eyes.

I crossed the bridge and became a Person Who Has Been Heartbroken.  

The others, they open their arms to welcome me.

A Person Who Has Gone Mad. I look around me at my new companions and I see their sympathy and their understanding. I know I will survive.

I dab makeup under my own eyes. I chased thoughts of you away last night, and let those eyes close. You were in my dreams, but it was the warm, open love of mine who whispered sweet words that felt real, who touched me with meaning in his hands, not the cold, distant lover who looked at me with disdain and uncertainty when I dared to be stronger than him.

I am. I am. I am. I am stronger and prouder. I am fiercer. I am more real.

I am not afraid of myself. I no longer feel shame when I stumble.

I feel guilt, though, for the broken trail I left behind me. Lovers and friends who broke free of my falsely self-assured wake and crossed the bridge.

You are that dream, unsubstantial. Your love was confusing and conditional. Now you seek someone else to give it to, until she sees You, and your adoration turns to anger. I saw You and you hated that, I think. Your carefully tended image crumbled.

I didn’t mind the pieces.

That’s what I wish you knew.

It doesn’t matter anymore though.

That’s what I wish I knew.

I move onto my Tribe, my People. My secret society of the broken who walk amongst us, unassuming. I have my mask on too, but I can sense them around me.

My card was Strength. I woke strong, the lion within had crawled out to curl beside me.

I remember back to the first glimpse I saw of You. I wish I had listened to myself and left.

My new friends pat my back and nod. They know.

Do you wish you had left, or was it easier when I pushed you away?

Always one foot in the door. I think I’ve finally slammed it behind you.

They stroke my hair and nod.

They know.