Yesterday, you told me that you no longer recognized me -- distaste spilling from your mouth as if this was a truth that I should somehow find shame in. Only, I know better. Finally, I know better. For you see, I am still me. It is just that when we were together I was made a little more of "sorries" than I was of myself, I was a little more doormat than backbone and I was a little more a weed in your garden of self-proclaimed Eden than I was a beautiful, blooming wildflower.