I wrote you that first message.

I invited you to coffee, just coffee.

I showed up to get you when you got stuck in the mountains.

I brought you homemade muffins when I thought I got you sick.

I invited you to your “would be” second concert before you flew to Romania, but you didn’t show up.

I was there to talk to you everyday when you were in Romania, until one day you disappeared and didn’t talk to me for the next 6 months.

I sent you care packages on your birth day and Christmas two years in a row.

I ordered your photographs that hang on my walls because I believe in the artist that I see.

When I thought you may have cared, I flew to where you were for a whole week because you told me it would be okay to drive out and see the stars together.

But when you saw me, you shut the door in my face and you said,  “You can’t be here. You need to leave.”

How is cruelty so easy for you? And how could I have allowed it? 

And who is the monster that I see? It’s me. It was only ever me.