I have always been an average wannabe poet, but it was still so startling to look upon my old poems and realise with a pang, how much more I lived then.

Am I have happier now? Certainly. My walk is upright and much more carefree; my voice is stronger. I have begun looking people in the eye again. I don't fuss much. Very few things irritate me as they would have done so in the last two years. I smile more and sing to myself again.

I'm on the slow road to recovery.

Do I miss him? Yes and no. A leopard never changes his spots. Never mind if there wasn't ostensibly any physical cheating, (but then, I only have his word for it).

Will I take him back, like the last time and the time before that? A week ago, I would have said "Yes", because it is in my nature to hope for the best and hold on to what I have, flawed as it is. But now, feeling so relieved, for want of a better word, I hope I won't.

I feel sad, because I will, in a situation like this. But I don't grieve. There is a difference.