I have spent a lot of time wondering. Worrying. Being bothered. Disturbed. A tad obsessive even.

I’ve spent a lot of time in my life wondering if I am making the right decision. Knowing that every decision we make affects our lives yet understanding that we all don’t make the best decisions always. I find a certain comfort in that understanding.

Then you showed up.

The irony of writing a heartbreak story on Valentine’s day has never been more apparent

the title of this work of art

I feel a lot of anger whenever I think of you. I think about how I knew better. How my judgement was on point the first time, yet time and circumstances swayed my judgement. And oh, what a price I paid. There’s a lot of anger. A lot of anger. A lot of… anger. I think mostly directed at myself. How could I have allowed this to happen? Of all the people to fall for and be undone by, why did it have to be you? For the first time in my life, I am utterly disappointed in myself for the love I chose. I actually have regrets. I… regret… you. Which is saying a lot.

For all the things I have been through, I never regretted the decisions that led up to it. I called them experiences. Life lessons. I would be the first to defend whatever happened and own up to the part I played in it. Yet with you, all that runs through my mind is, it was all my fault. I let this happen.

I would be the first to admit that your presence in my life was not terrible. You played a relevant role at the time. But did it have to become what it became? Did our acquaintance have to reach the depths it did? Did I really need to put myself in a position that would, in effect, change my life forever?

Objectively, no matter how I look at it, you were a necessary evil. When I look at where I am now, you needed to be exactly where you were back then so that I can be where I am now. And I hate that. I really, truly, with every fibre of my being, am disgusted by that.

There is no fondness when I think of you. There is just a bitter taste in my mouth. A churning in my stomach so strong, I want to throw up. I wonder, sometimes, if it is unforgiveness. I think it is, to a very large extent. And I hate that too. I hate that I have become a person who isn’t ready to forgive. A person with a past they deeply regret and cannot seem to accept.

I do not want to be that person though. I pray that God gives me the strength to accept the past, and heal from it. I pray that he helps me to accept and acknowledge all of it without being held down by it. But most of all, I pray for the grace to forgive. To forgive myself and to forgive you too. Hatred never helped anyone.

I used to make jokes about how love can easily turn to hate if pointed in the right direction.

Clearly, the joke’s on me now.

Nana Agyeiwaa Nyameba

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
I hope this song brings you as much warmth as it does to me.

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