Dispelling the Thrawl of Guilt

 
More than two years ago, I broke somebody's heart. He made his pain clear; held me on the phone for hours talking about how he wanted to kill himself and making me cry until I threw up. I loved him very much. It hurt me to hurt him, but I couldn't stay. The breakup was messy. I number it amongst the things that I think of when I wish I had done things better. Still, it needed to be done. Finally, I did what I should have done from the begining, I told him I couldn't talk to him anymore and stopped anwering his calls. If you want a wound to heal, you have to stop poking it.
He has over 4 thousand dollars worth of my stuff. Some of it was on loan and some of it I told him  I would give him in exchange for him finishing up a project that we'd been working on. Most of it was technology and so has deteriorated in value since then. However, I've been asking for the stuff that was on loan to be returned and the project to be finished for much more than a year now.
I've finally given up and realized the obvious. I'm not the only one who acted shitty in that whole mess. My ex is not a victim. At least not anymore than everybody is. I had every right to leave. This last statement is obvious, however, it's surprisingly hard to believe. Especially when somebody whom you loved and trusted tries to convince you otherwise.
I went on a cleaning spree, yesterday. I brought in all my boxes from the garage and dug through them. I usually keep one of two of those big plastic bins full of clothes that I am temporarily tired of. It so happens that there are some very beautiful things that have taken up perminant residence in there because they were gifts from my ex. Somehow I just couldn't get rid of the. It felt like it would be a betrayal...
A betrayal of what exactly? I owe him nothing. I don't need to hang on to this pain just because I know that we wants me to.
I put the stuff that was useful out on the sidewalk with a free sign. Some of it I threw away. I'm going to burn anymore love letters that I find. Like all dead things, dead feelings deserve a  proper funeral. If you keep them around sometimes they develop a life of their own and jump out like drooling zombie emotions; dead and hungry for more aguish to feed their evil. Goodbye guilt. I'm letting you go. The past is the past.
Exboyfriend, if you have found this blog and are reading this, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I hope you're happy with my stuff. "Life is life now!"