Tomorrow We’ll be Strangers Again (and I Can’t WAIt)

You released me once.
Said it, even—
out loud,
in writing,
as clear as a slammed door.
And for a moment,
you got it right.

So many years of silence.
God, they were beautiful.
So many years of breathing clean air.
So many years of peace
without your hands in everything.

But now you’re back.
Uninvited.
Unwelcome.
Unchanged.

You’ve inserted yourself
into something that was never yours.
Into a place that grew without you,
thrived without you,
healed in the absence of your voice.

But like any good narcissist,
you can’t sit with the truth—
that no one on my side of the fences misses you.
That no one’s been searching the horizon
hoping to see you return.

You’re too fragile to admit
you are not loved here.
Too proud to acknowledge
you are not wanted.
So you inflict yourself.
Because that’s all you’ve ever known how to do.

And still—
you pretend it’s love.
You weaponize presence,
thinking it’s proof of relevance.
It isn’t.

You are a ghost
who refuses to stay away.
A shadow that drags itself across boundaries
and calls it family.

But I know what peace tastes like.
I had it.
I’ll have it again.

Because soon,
we’ll go back to being strangers.
Not blood.
Not history.
Not anything that binds.

Just names
with no meaning.
Just silence,
blessed and unbroken.

And I can’t wait.

So many years wasn’t long enough.
Next time,
let’s make it unending.