The digital numbers of the air conditioner reflect the cool indoor temperature on the glass door. White numbers float like a pair of ghosts against the fading night sky. The cold air tenses my body and the heat outside when I turn off the machine suffocates. I can’t seem to find balance.
He is suffering now in ways I will never know. I chose to marry someone else, I know this. Will he ever let go? Will he haunt me forever? I wait without knowing what to do. There was been progress, I think. But progress is slow. Every day I wake up my first prayer is that he will forget me. I had a sign from a digital fortune teller that his grip on me weakens every day. I am suffering in other ways, ways I have not suffered before.
What began in beauty ended in such ugly destruction. Who knew such tenderness would turn into this violence? Violence of the will, of the spirit, and violence of time. Waiting for me, waiting for me to come, and now I wait for him to leave.
SUBLIME COURAGE 
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