I’ve realised,
not through research,
but through my own experience,
that the mind, indeed,
can be trained.

I used to cry.
To wonder.
To beg
you
to talk to me.

You always said the same thing.
How busy you were.
How you don’t like being on your phone.
How you don’t even like calls.

For months,
I sent you paragraphs
trying to explain to you
why I just needed you to talk to me.
To call me.

You said you would change.
Try harder.
Do better.

You didn’t.

Eventually,
my brain was rewired.

I convince myself that it’s just because I don’t care anymore.

But I often wonder if it’s just because I’ve cried so much
that my brain cannot process the pain any longer.

So it adapts.

You say you care.
You try to affirm me as much as you can.
Once in a while.

But you do.

But you now no longer question further
if I tell you I had a terrible day.
You no longer ask me why I’m feeling sad.

You, like many other aspects of my life,
have changed.

I don’t like change.

But change happens quite often, it seems.

But that one day,
I told myself that I would never cry again because of you.

And I never did.