Nothing weighs heavier than the words that dug into my skin when you told me to leave you alone. And nothing burns more than the sight of you rummaging through your cupboards on the same night he left you; rummaging to find whatever piece of yourself that you can proclaim yours only.

You should never have to feel like your temporary foolishness will discredit your lifetime of goodwill. You should never have to think that the people you meet are reflections of who you are: because you are not the monster he made himself out to be.

I cannot compare you to the light at the end of the tunnel. You are not my fresh breath of air. You are not the butterflies in my stomach. You are not the fluttering of my heart. You are not the taste of good, strong wings of freedom.

You are enough. You are your own bag of mistakes. You are your own tangled up strings of emotional attachment and hope. You are your own mess to sort out. Put trust in believing that I will stay by your side while you pick yourself up. I do not wish for you to glue back the broken pieces he left behind, I wish for you to untangle the knots in your mind, and to start untouched.