Sometimes I Think About You

I sometimes wonder if my ex belittles you the way he used to belittle me. Part of me longs for proof of his cruelty, and while I would relish the validation, I shudder at the thought of you suffering as I did.

I was so terrified of my own envy that I painted you as the villain—bad, sick, wrong—rather than owning my insecurities. I loved you, but that love was tainted by prejudice and bitterness; I doubt you ever truly felt it.

I remember one night when his voice rose, snorting like a bull in anger at my simple request for time together. That moment teetered on a knife’s edge, and I recoiled into self-doubt. I’d recorded the conversation and replayed it over and over, using it to steel myself—finally finding the courage to leave him, months later, yet wishing I’d done it sooner.

When I learned of your tragedy, my heart shattered. Watching helplessly, seeing you so vulnerable from so far away, awakened me to my own selfish blindness. It took years before I could love him in what I call the fourth density—a realm of spiritual perspective beyond ego and fear. Only then did genuine compassion take root in me.

Now, I envision you and my ex as a harmonious pair. I see you navigating his flaws with grace, unwavering self-assurance, and love—everything I could not be, yet quietly admired in you.

Embracing him in fourth density gave me the clarity to wish you both a true happily ever after. I pray he never calls you names, never threatens to leave you for expressing disappointment or confusion, never makes you feel worthless.

If he does, I hope you see his vulnerabilities and insecurities—his unconscious need to uphold an illusion. I’m proud of my decision to cut all contact in our third-density world. I’ve grown stronger, wiser, and deeply rooted in my own worth and truth. The idea that his toxic, arrogant, self-centered opinions ever mattered to me at all makes me chuckle now, though thoughts of him are rare.  He’s so small in my rearview mirror.  

But you—you lovely, gentle human—you were a blessing to me, and you continue to be in ways I can’t fully explain or describe, and that’s okay. Because I don’t need to explain. I don’t need to say anything. My only duty is to love. And I’m doing that—big, full, and wonderfully—way over here.