old diary

i travelled so many places alone,
putting one foot in front of the other,
on the road, thinking i would come to know
something more about myself
or the universe or why
I held onto you for so long.
carrying a book you bought me
that i read and re-read,
like it was the kabbalah
and the codes would spell out
the right thing to do for us.
i read and re-read
your letter written in my diary,
diving our future together,
like the Delphic oracle that no one
understood until a mighty empire fell,
King Croesus of Lydia.
now i have a house and a couch,
a dog and a wok,
that i bought with money i saved,
a paycheck at a time.
in my diary,
at one time,
i wanted to say
i did this without you.
i never needed you,
and you could be an ant.
but i dream different dreams,
and i wouldn't throw myself
over for anyone anymore,
not like i did for you.
and i say now
i did this myself,
i need me,
and i love myself.
i wrote a diary once,
when i was someone else,
walking on the road,
and i forgot everything,
until.