I burned my ex's stuff... and felt no regret

We were fun... we lasted three years. But we were toxic together no matter how much we said we loved each other.

We kept fooling around after the breakup though. Then on April this year, she just cut all contact... She got mad for no reason, and she threw a bunch of insults my way. I've felt lonely since then because I literally have no intimacy with any of my friends. Courtesy of my God complex.

Today, nearly two years since we broke up, and eight months since we last spoke... I found it in me to take our box of stuff and just burn it. I thought I'd feel release... thought I'd feel liberation. I didn't. I didn't feel anything. I realized I'd spent so much time thinking I needed her, I forgot to wonder if I still did. I'm not even mad at her...

I am a writer. I am a magician. I've been so before her, and I will remain so after. Am I lonely? Yes. But I survive, and that is honorable in my eyes. I still wish I had someone I could waste three hours of midninght phone conversations with... but I am proud nonetheless. I can wait.

I'm done running. All running does is tire us out so our demons can defeat us.