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A week had passed since that disastrous night in Greenbelt 3--when Matt ditched me for the nth time, and Charlie slapped me across the face in disgust--and also to bring me back to my senses.

I spent that week brewing evil plans in my head. I burned every freaking journal I wrote during all those years I labeled "magical." I deleted all Facebook contacts I only added because of him. I wrote my articles with the speed and focus of a scorned woman, and I spent my free time daydreaming about what I would do to the man if, by any chance, our paths crossed again. I was seriously considering using pepper spray.

Yes, I was angry.

I was really, really angry.

And it actually felt good to finally release all that pent up anger I never thought I had.

I wish I could preach that my anger didn't get the best of me. But it did. I wish I could say that I forgave Matt and moved on quietly. But I didn't, because you know what? I am human. I feel pain. I feel humiliation. I feel shame. And if the rage could help me move past this stage quickly, then I would embrace it with every fiber of my being.

That's the thing about anger. It doesn't always pull you down or rot you from inside out. Sometimes, in cases like this one, it helps catapult you out of a difficult situation. I'm human and I'm entitled to hate that one person who could never be decent.

And then, there are times when I wish that this story had ended differently. Sometimes, I hope that he had just shown up and apologized. Sometimes, I hope that we had parted ways like old acquaintances who couldn't be friends anymore. Sometimes, I hope that I could write how I had taken the higher road and that I had forgiven him. But I couldn't. Maybe eventually, in what would be nothing short of a miracle; maybe in another lifetime, when he's born a skunk and I'm born a lioness; maybe never--and that is still my choice to make.

How I wish this story had ended differently, but what good would it do me to dream otherwise?

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