Trigger warning- Details of domestic violence and abuse.
It was always screaming and fighting. Such venom and ferociousness in every word you spoke to me. Between the sex and the lies and the alcohol, I looked past so many things. Much to my detriment, in retrospect. I’d never say names. I’ve never been one to publicly shame someone. But at the same time, fuck you. Fuck you for all the petty arguments. Fuck you for constantly making me feel like I wasn’t good enough even though I was paying all the bills and working 70 hours a week while you sat at home and got drunk.
Fuck you for constantly berating and embarrassing me in front of your friends and family. But most of all, fuck you for tricking me into falling in love with you. Now, granted, that may be a bit harsh, at least from someone else’s perspective. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Anger isn’t healthy.
There came a certain point where I dreaded coming home to you. Knowing exactly what would happen. Another night of illogical questions and accusing me of things you didn’t even believe yourself. I didn’t go out and fuck other girls. I was hardly confident enough to fuck you sometimes. And you used that against me. I know you did. You reveled in it.
It got to a point where I couldn’t separate my own identity from our relationship. It became so muddy and interchangeable. My self worth started to thrive on your opinions of me and yours alone. I abandoned my family. I lost touch with my closest friends. And all for fucking what? For a dysfunctional relationship that you just simply couldn’t let go of. Even when I tried to leave.
Your hooks were in me. So deep that tearing them out felt more painful than staying. And I’m not one to lie or indulge myself, but we did have some good times. The occasional vacation. The days we got to spend in bed just watching movies and laughing and making fun of each other. But oh. How the tables turned so quickly.
It turned from blissful ignorance to sheer contempt. I wanted to love you. I really did. But you just couldn’t be happy. And the fights escalated. The words got worse and worse. On both our sides. It was never something we wanted to happen. And I’d still apologize to this day even though I know I shouldn’t.
I’d say I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned. I’d say I’m sorry that things fell apart. I’d say I’m sorry that we stopped loving each other. What I’m most sorry for is…that I, eventually, started treating you exactly like you treated me. I regret that the most.
The truth is, though, I don’t know if I’m sorry for anything. That last bit, yeah. Because you changed me in a way I’m not sure I ever anticipated. You made me into the type of person I never wanted to be. And I know, it sounds like I’m passing the blame, but there’s only so many times you can get slapped in the face over not having weed before a tiny piece of your brain breaks.
In the beginning, it was mesmerizing and I didn’t think anything could be better. In the middle, I could see what was happening. Where this would all end up. All the times you broke me down. All the times you went out of your way to make me feel less than you. Or your friends. Or whoever you were mostly likely fucking. But….but, in the end, I know I’m better off without you. And maybe, if I can allow myself to believe it, I’ll find somebody better.
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