Because You Still Owe Me

I did not pay attention to the date. I am sure it was about this time last year that you disappeared.You left without warning to most but to me, you gave them by the millions. I did not pay attention because I did not want to. You would, in my mind, live up to your promise. You owed me. You would pay me back. Like all the days I gave you with smiles, you gave me with frowns. You were supposed to be all that you were not but still I trusted you. Although, in every sense, in every way you were the personification of betrayal, I still believed in you. You let me down. You broke every rule. The six and I, you would leave behind-unapologetic. Always unapologetic. While the world saw you as giving and selfless, I knew that you were neither. I can not forgive you. I hate that I miss you. You don't deserve that. I did not want you to be something that you could not be. I wanted you to be happy without me. You could have done that easily. I am not that special. I am not that hard to get over. You were a strong woman when I met you and that did not have to change. It was you who gave up. In the simplest way, you quit doing those basic things which were necessary for your survival. You died lazy, stupid, and weak. You died an uncaring, evil, cunt who abandoned those little ones that you swore were your life. No one should think kindly of you. No one should feel sad. I should not miss you. You owe me. I gave you your life when you should have died. I sacrificed my happiness so you could become what you once were, once again. You still owe me, and you can never pay me back. You owe me and what did you leave me? In the end, you left me for your loved ones (the ones who were where when you were so sick?) to blame. You gave them the gift of a clear mind. To them, it was my fault you died. You could have left them the truth that I gave you what only a god could have. I gave you years that you did not deserve. You probably thought this would be about how much I still love you, that I made a mistake when I left, that I wish I could still be in your arms, but that would not be the truth. I left because I realized that you were not capable of loving anything. Your whole identity was a lie, and those who surrounded you did exactly what you would have done--they left when it got hard and uncomfortable. I did not do that. I stayed through the discomfort and the difficult. I gave you a million chances and you fucked up all of them. Now, you are dead. Yes, I wish you were not. Only, though, because you owe me.