I almost texted you today to tell you I wore polka dots. I took an up-close picture of my rainbow polka dotted skirt and attached it to an empty message. The picture would have been enough.
When we started dating you loved all of me. As the months went by, you slowly took away the parts of me that you didn't like until I became what you wanted. And I let you.
One of the things you changed about me that really stuck over the years was my clothes. They were too colorful, and my closet went from yellow sweaters and striped jackets to tight fitting crop tops in neutral tones. And one day when I woke up, I looked at my closet and realized that wasn't me.
So we broke up.
I found a new man shortly after. He asked me what my favorite color was and I told him yellow. He showed up to my work the next day with a gift for me, and it was a yellow sweater. Just like the one I donated because you didn't like the attention the color gave me.
I live with him now, and have for a few years. He's a really great guy. You would probably like him. Everyone does. There's just something about him that makes you feel brand new.
I woke up in our bed this morning and I had left my closet door open. And it hit me. The red dress. My grasshopper rain boots. My sequin tank top. My rainbow polka dotted skirt. My yellow sweater. And no neutral colors.
I almost texted you today because I wanted to tell you I'm better. The damage you did wasn't permanent like we both thought. Isn't that amazing? Years after you, I was able to find myself again.
And that's a kind of strength I've never known.