You finally wore off.

We haven't spoken in over a year. Something I never thought I'd say. The last time I seen you, we said hello in passing purely out of politeness, and went our separate ways with not another word. I even made sure to keep my hands busy so that you wouldn't attempt for a hug, because I knew that the slightest touch of your skin or smell of cologne would send me spiralling again. I could tell you were surprised at how cold and reserved I was, your jaw almost hit the floor as I walked away from you, for the first time - not turning back. I could feel your eyes burning holes in me watching me walk away. And I know that even though you refused to believe it at the time, deep down you knew it would be the last time I left. It felt so good, that even when you messaged me "happy new year x" months later - thinking that the infatuation of you would come flooding back, I somehow mustered the courage to leave it alone. I didn't reply, I didn't even open the message. Weeks later, my birthday came around, and once again so did the sly message trying to lure me back in. Again, I left it. I refuse to go back to old patterns and repeat bad habits.

It feels good knowing I shocked you with my new-found self respect.