Finally the ball is in my court, and you are in the palm of my hand. I clasp my fingers around you and do not let you go. After all this time you are mine; it is not the other way around anymore. I smile a victorious smile and enjoy the moment. You stubbornly try to escape from my determined hand, but I tighten my grip. I tighten the grip that I've wanted, needed, for oh so long...so long.
I am no longer a slave, and I feel the freedom envelope me. I smell the glory of change. The anger I have felt has alas won over my lamentation. I wipe off the last tear with the back of my hand and then wash my face literally and metaphorically.
Then I loosen the grip that I have worked so hard to obtain. I loosen the grip and set you free, because I do not want to enslave you as you enslaved me. That is not what I want at all. I just need you to go for my sake. I have to do this because it is best for me, and I finally have to do this. I have to believe I am better than that because it's true; I am. I am not being conceited; there are just times when someone deserves better, and in this case it was me.