dear ex

You know, it wasn't until I cut you out of my life that I was able to grow. I'd idolized you for so long that I believed your path was the only available one for me. You worked your full-time desk job, volunteered when you had a spare moment, and absorbed yourself in your studies. The campaign you managed fell apart. And still, everything you did was glamorous in my eyes. You had a destination, and it seemed as though you were getting there fast.

But I was young, and I was naive. I know now that you have an impressive resume but not an exceptional one. I have done my own research and found my own opportunities. I write, I teach, I work for the State Department. I have been recognized, not only by abstract judging panels but also by professors I respect and admire. I'm living overseas, speaking another language and navigating a world completely foreign (pun intended) to you.

And what have you done? Plodded along. Taken the chances that have fallen into your lap. Waited. Expected.

As for me, I like a little bit of action myself. And I expect nothing more than this: that I will continue to get out of my life what I put in.

(On that note, it's about time I finished the freelance piece I've been working on all day. Cheerio.)