Do you recognize these words?

“She thought of herself as a comet soaring on the wind, but every once in a while frightened by her internal rebellion she longed for someone to control her wild impulses.”

I tacked this Isabel Allende quote up alongside my bed, and when I would lay there with you I would repeat the words as a mantra, over and over. When I would feel suffocated, disgusted by your plodding boorish complacency, I would tell myself that you have a calming influence on me. I thought I needed your stability, your balance, and your calm.

You damaged me in a place I can’t name. I don’t miss you, I don’t want you and most of the time I thank God I am no longer with you. But you betrayed me, you hurt me, deceived me and my family, and the thought of you sitting there smug, with your middle aged whore, makes me sick. So know that I was never in love with you either. I was passionate about you on some levels, but I am passionate about everything I care about. My intensity, my recklessness, my dreams, my ambitions, I knew even then they scared the shit out of you. I rationalized this all away, I told myself you kept me grounded. You represented a safety net, a calm, and a peace I thought I was supposed to want, to need. Oh, how I rationalized my discontent away, I told myself that this was what adult relationships were like. After all, I couldn’t forever chase the drama, the sparks, this was real life, and for once I was determined to be a realist, and work hard at this boring, banal thing we called a relationship. I glad I now know the truth. Because of you, I will never settle again. And because of you, your weakness, your deception I learned much

After one horrible fight, you knelt before me, and looked me in the eyes “I still fear you” you said, “your temper, your extremes, they scare me.” At that point I was far from the 19 year old girl identifying with the comet soaring on the wind. Years with you had taken their toll, and only a few parts of me soared. So I hated myself for making you think I could possibly hurt you. Now I know you were with her as you uttered those words, as I tried to reassure you that I would never hurt you. The irony of that moment, and my complete trust in you makes me laugh now. But moments like that anger me most about the whole ordeal, more than your infidelity, your attempts at taming my spirit blind me with fury. You would beg to be calm and still, logical, less heated more controlled. And I tried, I did. Whatever part of my mercurial nature craved stability was powerful enough to make a real effort at toning down the essence of who I am. But, despite my best efforts, my gypsy soul broke through every time, frustrating me, scaring you.

I want you to picture me now. I reveal in the depth of my emotions, I celebrate my extremes and my inconsistencies, I laugh so hard and so loud and so often my stomach hurts, I get so angered at injustice, sometimes I throw books against my wall in outrage, then I flirt outrageously with some smug business man who buys me margaritas at happy hour and I ponder things you couldn’t even begin to wrap your little mind around, and I talk to people engaged in meaningful work and I ask many questions, I am inquisitive and I argue and debate and push myself and others and I am intense and real and authentic and alive. And when I look into my own eyes I see the same comet soaring on the wind now that I first recognized at 19, and I have learned to treasure her. In short, you cheating on me, you ultimately turning into a fake and a fraud, was one of the best things to ever happen to me.

Thought you should know,