The memories still burn. Not often but sometimes.
And there are times that I’d like to tell the asshole that almost did me in, to go fuck himself.
The one who showed me what a liar is.
The one who made me despise being lied to.
The one who could lie so damn good, it’d make your whole life feel like a gaslight.
The lies would come like someone left the water running for days except the well never ran dry.
Disguised in truths I wanted to believe.
And did believe.
Even though my insides were screaming simultaneously with all the red flags flying.
We all know the one, no?
The one that lights our crazy?
Like a match on a stream of gasoline on black asphalt, just waiting to go up in flames.
The one that calls us psycho when we call them on their shit?
The one that can manipulate and twist words and scenarios like shoe laces so that we’re left questioning our own sanity.
The one that comes home with makeup on his white work shirt, 2 hours late.
Proclaiming he had an after hours work meeting.
or should I say boy.
It’s impossible to try and understand the whys of people who lack empathy— the narcissists and sociopaths of the world, who can lie as easily as they speak—
It’s impossible to understand, because our hearts aren’t wired that way, and I was too busy wanting him to change.
Thinking I could be the reason he would.
Wanting desperately to be that significant.
And the stain he left on me, it never quite seemed to come out in the wash of all the tears I cried, when I would find out something else, something new.
He’d take the axe from his twisted mind— each time, chipping away at my wide eyed belief in love.
In good men.
But it was my choice to stay as long as I did.
I didn’t deserve one bit of the shit I willingly took— but it was my choice to continue to take the mental beatings.
I could have ended it after a month… but I stayed for 2.5 years.
Because sometimes, we don’t love ourselves enough— or at all.
To end what we know we should, because we’re confined to our fear of being alone.
Hands bound leaving us to drown in our unworthiness war while desperately digging to find the love in people who don’t know how.
These were my lessons to find beneath the cracks.
The why me’s didn’t work when it came to my side of the street.
What he did was on him,
But my willingness to take it, was on me.
And, even though it took me 10 years to find the gold nugget of the purpose in what I didn’t understand, for years… I can be grateful.
This was my lesson—
Self Abandonment or Self-loyalty.
You can probably guess what I chose.
I chose to find my stonewall strength
I chose to stop hurting myself each and every time I made the decision to stay.
And even though I have these memories of this version of him stained on my psyche…
He taught me to hate lies… but he also taught me to love the truth.
Isn’t this the double edge sword we often find ourselves in.
These things that hurt us, but also, eventually bring even greater reward?
So, to the one that almost did me in, go fuck yourself, but also thank you.
For showing me every bit of what I never want, ever again.
For pushing me to find my two legs so that I could run as far and as fast— away from you, and toward my damn self.