I envy her. I didn’t before. Hell before I giddily relished my position as superior to hers – it wouldn’t have been possible for me to envy her. I feel foolish thinking of it now. Pitying her for the meagre scraps she was forced to accept… for the fact that she couldn’t know all of you.
Hindsight being what it is – I can’t help but look back and want to slap my younger self. I KNEW better. My gut screamed at me about it but, oh, how desperately my heart refused to hear.
It’s so painful to have figured out the moment it changed, to have made the connection between those deep undercurrents and to know – with every fibre of my being – that nothing would have convinced me to make a different choice at the time.
That’s a sign that all the subterfuge works I guess. We’re supposed to want it and I did. Oh, how I wanted it. If I’d known that it was linked to you, that it would be the point of no return in our relationship … but that’s a useless hypothetical. There’s no way I’d have understood the connection at the time and no one would’ve clued me in because they wanted me to make that choice. I know they meant well, most of them any way, but that still sucks.
It hurts so much that your decisions were based on my answer that night … and that you weren’t honest with me about it. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like I can point to a moment between us where you were honest and up front. Yet somehow you see me as the villain.
Gods, I envy her and her blissful ignorance.
“One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand”