And maybe the sometimes stagnant part of my life right now just is begging for the destructive drama that my first relationship imprinted on me. Life is perfect now so let's destroy, says the drunken witch of PTSD... the inner demon HE had left behind.
I was supposed to be special. But I'm not. Not in the "Bill Gates" "Steve Jobs" sort of way. And that's unsettling for me. I'm not a great. But I was supposed to be. But I'm not. And that realization has taken me years of self hate to endure and surpass. I am not a Great.