He hates me. Or he loves me. I don’t know. I don’t get to know. All I know is he left me for another woman, the same woman he leaves every woman for. Which is fine. I knew that was coming eventually. It was inevitable, just like old age and global warming. He will always get back with her, but before he got back with her, he was with me. But all of that’s over now. It’s time to move on. Which I am doing, quite well, I might add. Although there’s still that nagging part of me that wonders why he wants me to think that he hates me. Was it that bad? No, it wasn’t that bad. We were friends, we were lovers. We were never serious about our relationship or building a future together. Things fell apart, as things tend to do, and now he hates me. For what? For not wanting him enough? For not begging him to stay with me and never go back to his ex? Of course he hates me. Or, he has to think he hates me. In order to justify the way he treated me. In order to excuse all those mean things he said to me. In order to make it okay for him to abandon me for the love of his life. My greatest sin was a sin of apathy. I kept it too simple. Too casual. Which isn’t a loathsome thing to do, but I guess it is enraging. Part of me wonders: do we feel the same way about each other? Frustrated that we were madly in love but neither of us wanted to be more than just simple. We couldn’t be simple forever. No one’s capable of that. Not like this. Sure, I could have put more work into the relationship. I could have forced it to work. But that’s not me. That’s not what I do. I don’t patch holes in sinking ships. I don’t command the course on a boat that goes nowhere. I jump in the water and back stroke back to shore, even though I’ve never been there before and I don’t speak the language and I have no money. He’s a pirate at heart, but I like adventures on land. I am the light house on foggy days, and he is the boat lost at sea. Together we are a wreck on the crags in the water, so why would I be mad if he sails in a different direction?