Writing Through The Traumas

You would have loved the new version of me. The one with drive and passion, the one that runs laps in the rain when there is no attention. This is the version you begged me for, the one hardened by life as you walked out the door.

You would have loved the new outlook I have. To always push harder and move with a purpose. I rarely sit the way I used to. Sure, there are times, but I don't often choose to.

You would have hated my new life. It was built from betrayal. Carved by your hands, shaping the meddle. Complacent and lazy, those were my descriptors. But I'll allow it, I won't fight back. Not because I accept it, but because you're too weak to attack.

You would have hated my attitude, the one that keeps me pushing. It wouldn't fit with your law, the one that tried to shush me. I won't sit in silence anymore, or follow your claw.

Goodbye to all of my favorite strangers. The memories of the time we shared will not die in vain. They live for eternity in my heart. We may not speak, or even know what's going on in each other's lives anymore, but each and every one of you has a place in my heart.

I cherish the lessons I've learned from each of you, some more than others. I cherish the laughter shared along our journey. I am blessed to have met each and every one of you, even those that wronged me.

I will look back on our time fondly, a smile on my face and nostalgia in my heart. I will laugh at the times shared, the inside jokes that I still remember, and the moments of intimacy whether they be platonic or romantic. I will cry, tears of longing for the chance to go back and feel it all again. The hardships that we thought would surely end us, like the world was caving in.

I will remember you all, and every moment we shared. Even as the time between grows longer and the moments get fuzzy, I will never forget any of you.

I was afraid to be alone for most of my life, chasing after things and bracing for the bite. I thought I could fix it, prove I earned it. If I struggled enough then surely they would erase it.

I chased after things that didn't belong. A sense of home, not knowing that it was never gone. I chased the attention, wanting the spotlight. I put on a brave face and danced in the star light.

But when I had nothing, no one to come home to, that's when I realized that there was nothing but shoes. I wore many pairs, often in the same day, walking a mile before switching the way.

But I am alone now, content not complacent. And when I am alone I can finally remove my shoes.

There's no need to run, or chase things along. For I am alone, and I don't think that's wrong. For in being alone, I finally have time. I can look at myself and see what to break.

Break through the lies, the conditioning, the deception. For it was I that started the history lesson. Look back at a time where you truly felt safe, and give me the line and changed your pace.

This is the first of the silence that I can't wait to enjoy. It is somber and heavy, instead of filling a void.

In the silence I can still hear you, but now I decide that it's not my view.

While not fully healed, I can see that is true, I build walls for myself much like a cocoon. I will move in silence, but never the shadows, and take a page from your book while rewriting my own. I will use what resonates, not what you taught, but what I've experienced from navigating the thoughts.

A piece of me waits by the window, watching and knowing. The cycle can't end, for it's only growing.

It's not your cycle this time, it's mine to begin. The past, present, and future all gathered with a grin.

I was fragmented before, hardly one piece. Now in the night we all sit, finally at peace.

We recall the trials, the hardship, the struggle. We laugh together now, and not at one another.

For we are all one, whole and conjoined. Before we blamed and pointed fingers, refusing to take shame.

But we have grown past that, all and one. The past wounds are mending, the ones long before your cuts. There is no I, she, or in the past. There is only now and what journey I decide to outlast.

For that is why the cycle has just begun. It's a cycle of healing, love, and all for one.

The child will not cry and cling for attention any longer. The teenager will not brood and refuse to go farther. The future is patient, kind, and composed. And then there is me, living and grown.

I still think of the what ifs sometimes. I still hear your song. I still wish you good fortune, but I am no longer riding along.

I won't hold my truths in the dark of the night, or brush them aside with a sigh and half lie.

I will be loud about my healing. It's only natural since I spent so long being silenced. If you did nothing wrong, then it shouldn't be an issue.

I'll speak my truths, during night or day, and still end the story wishing you a good way. I am proud to have known you, even if for a short burst. For you have changed my life, and not for the worst.

Your lessons were harsh, cruel, and unjust. But it led me here, full of self trust.

I have released you now, let go of my grasp. For so long I hoped it would last. I have come to terms with it, that you are not that man. I wish you the best, but I won't look back.

I've shut the doors, windows as well. Locked them tight, and familiarized myself with your spell. You won't be forgotten, that much is true, you will be the lesson that allowed me to build anew.

I thank you for your cruelty, much to my dismay. Without those moments, I'm sure I would have stayed.

Thank you for releasing me all those months back. You didn't realize the favor you granted me, even when I looked back. Thank you for proving me right, though you didn't know my bet. You played right into my hand, but I promise not to bite.

A broken shell. A hollow home.

What constitutes a home? The place I reside? It doesn't feel like home when you're not here. It feels empty, haunted by the laughter we shared, the futures we promised, and the lies not yet revealed. Grief swallows me whole while clarity tries to pull me free, the worst tug of war to be the centerpiece.

I remember the love in your eyes, and I believe it's real. Unfortunately for me, you don't know how to feel. The perfect man, crafted so carefully, was born out of hope and adoration. The mask wasn't born to shield me from your lies. I see what it is now, a lie you try to live by.

The mask was for me, and my eyes alone. Build to be everything you knew I wanted. It wasn't malicious, in fact quite the opposite. You wanted to provide, to allow me to hold my head high. The shame in this is not that you tried, it's that you never warned me of your lies.

Did you think I would run? Stay away? Maybe hide?

Oh, my dear love, please swallow your pride.

I love you for who you are, flaws and all. I love those eyes and how they claim me saying "mine". Your protection was not the problem, nor was your guidance. It was when your hand began to over rule mine.

Valentine's Day.

A day of happiness, romance, and kindred spirits.

I dress, plaster my smile, and present to the world, but I never attend.

It's been over two months since you left, but I still see you in everything I do. Your name is a whisper in the breeze, and every flake of snow I see is just as beautiful as the ones from the day I met you. Reminders of you surround me, haunting me of a dream I can not have.

You released a new song. This was the first I've heard you come close to admitting fault for what you did to me, though it was vague. Is this your collapse? Was I your turning point? Did your actions against me force you to rethink how you perceive the world?

I hope this is true, for even if I am not the woman for you, it will aid the last. Your song is about loss and shame, how you can't face yourself from inside the pain. I tried to contact you, foolish i know. After all you put me through, I should run for the hills. But I am your moth and you are my flame, try as i might i can't stay away.

You call to me, beckoning me closer, and I can't stop myself from following you deeper. Down the rabbit hole, and into the burrow. Will this time end with smiles and laughter, or the strike you swore I would never feel? Will this return be cherished and hold true, or is it just another ego boost for you?

I am distressed, helpless, distraught, and confused. Why couldn't I be the one where you stayed? The one that you choose?

The wound is reopened, bleeding like fresh. My heart screams your name while buried in my chest.

Make this pain end, I beg of you, please. For your love only comes with thousands of fees.

I can not take it anymore. I am alone, forgotten, left behind in your life.

Was it not me that you called your wife?

It's been so long since I've heard your voice. I should be over this by now, so why am I in a vice?

I am not okay.

I can not take this pain.

Why do I have to go on another day?

You truly did try your hardest for me. I understand why you feel broken, rejected, and alone. I have heard the stories of my predecessors now, and have come to realize that you tried your best only for me. Unfortunately, your best was not good enough. Your best was still controlling and hurtful, abusive and abrasive. Your best made me feel my lowest, so I can only imagine how she felt.

That's not to say I don't miss you, though. I see the promise of what you could be, how you could thrive, and how you could succeed. You believe you are perfect though, already attuned to health and tranquility. I am in love with your potential, and the man that could be.

That man does not match your actions, your words, nor your dreams. That man is who you pretended to be. Whether it was a lie or a mask, I find myself longing for that man to come back. The one that showered me in flowers, adoration, and support. But that is the same man that put this knife in my back.

Even though I'm aware of this, it doesn't quell the ache. It doesn't subdue the longing. It doesn't quiet the pain. I can recognize when something is harmful towards me, but the heart can not be tamed. In the dark of the night, when the world has gone still, I look beside me and wish you well. I look at your empty space, the one I refuse to fill, and remember what it was like to lay beside you. I remember how it felt, with my head on your chest and the even pace of your breath. I remember the drowsy midnight kisses when I rolled away and you followed, pulling me close like I was about to disappear. I remember the laughter, the love, the wholeness I felt. I curse the world, for none of it was real.

I know the whole story now, not the one that you gave. I've seen the sweet pet names, the ones that made me melt, spoken to another girl. I've seen the story you made for me, leaving out the fact of your role. I've seen the way you ran back to her when our relationship failed. You swore up and down that it was only me, that that intimacy was reserved for me. The lies brought so much pain, even though I thought I healed. It reopened the wounds, and for some reason a piece of me is still under your spell. I wonder how long your new woman will last, if she will fit in my shell.

To the one that came after me, I wish you well and I wish you strength. His will is strong, but I can promise it only lasts as long as the fight. With all of those dead eyed stares and with all of the hateful words, if you can find it in yourself to keep your will then you can survive. His touch may be nice and his kindness may come sparingly, but I can promise you it won't go without a fight. You will win, you will lose, you will cry, and you will beg. You will do just as I and the one before me have done. For years and years he's repeated the cycle, and I promise baby girl, you're not that special. You're not the one that can change him. You're not the one that can fix him. Don't let those lies fester in the back of your mind while you're with him.

Survival and integration come naturally as you mourn. Mourn a life that never came to be, a broken promise, a smile that never reached the eyes. No one can tell you how to survive, which is the hardest part.

You have to learn it for yourself. Learn how to eat again, learn how to truly sleep and not just wait, learn how to exist. They are slow battles that happen inevitably. You want to wallow and cry and stop moving, but the world won't let you. Time will pass you by, or at least it will feel like it. Everything will feel hollow and fake, but I can promise you from experience that it's not.

At first I saw you everywhere, even brought you with me intentionally because it felt safer than being alone. That's what you wanted isn't it? To rewrite my identity to involve you? I carried your voice, your message, your presence with me even despite not being with you. It weighed on me, making even the basic tasks seem impossible.

The more I tried to be okay, the harder it got. The more I tried to push forward, the further back I fell. Until I gave in. I let your image, your sound, your words, and your memories fill my daily life. I fantasized about the day you returned, playing your apology over and over in my mind. I held onto you like a lifeline because you were to me.

The harder I held onto you, the more I replayed your words, the less I needed you. I could wake up and eat again. Then one day, before I had even realized, I was eating and singing and dancing in my kitchen like I had before we ever met. I wasn't free of you, not by a long shot. True freedom never comes after how you treated me, but I could bear the burden on my shoulders again without feeling like I would collapse. Your world became ours and then it became mine until you are nothing but an after thought.

Schizo

Crazy

Delusional

These are all names you have referred to me as. I'm sure they felt true to you when I recorded our conversations to protect myself, or when I told you my worries and suspicions only to have them be swept under the rug. I fell victim to your words, playing the role exactly as you requested. I drove myself crazy searching for hidden meanings and pretending in order to avoid upsetting you.

I am crazy, but not in the way you described. I am passionate and caring and stubborn, all traits that you hate since they are so hard to dissuade. Yes, I have eyes in your world that report back to me. Not because I miss you oh so dearly, but to warn me of your harm. They keep me safe in the storm you created and anchor me to a present where you do not define my worth or value.

Yes, I am schizo. This is what a constant threat does to a psychological system. Having to constantly watch over my shoulder for your reactions and responses has a tendency to do that. I was not walking on eggshells with you, I walked on a bed on nails. No matter what step I took, I was punished. No matter how I performed, I was in pain.

I hope your replacement for me does well. Not for you, but for herself. I pray she never has to wake and live in fear, that she never second guesses herself, that she will never feel your wrath. I wish her well, and I hope for her survival. Not because you will put hands on her, but because you will erode her until she is nothing but your shadow just like every girl before her. I hope her consciousness is strong enough to survive your storm and brave enough to run when the lights go out. I hope she may never know what it's like living with your voice in her head.

But she will.

Not because you are just that important, but because you are that infectious. People don't even know you have infiltrated their minds until it's too late. You have done it to me, slowly stripping away pieces of me layer by layer until I was too deep to be able to run. As for the girl before me, she may have had it worse. Years she spent with you, while i could only stand a few months. Maybe you're getting impatient, growing angry with having to start over with another.

I could hope that one day you wake up and regret your actions, but we know that will never happen. For regret to survive and grow, a person must have a heart and a moral compass. We both know that in place of yours is only drive and dedications to bettering your life at the expense of others.

In the quiet of the night my heart aches. It begs to return to ignorance, relive the memory of you that had not been tarnished with the truth. I relive our memories, poring over them as gospel, but I can never ignore the woman in our pictures. The one i don't recognize, the one smiling for show, the one whose truth hasn't been shown. For I am that woman, tried and true, the one still holding onto you. I don't recognize myself in our memories nor our messages. Was it really me that stumbled through? I lived through your eyes, abided your law, and upheld your time. I don't recognize the woman in our pictures, for she is not true. She is an amalgamation of rules and requests provided by your lips, the same ones that kissed her tenderly before the knife twists.

I still crave your contact. The touch of your skin on mine, hearing you call my name so gently and lovingly. I check our messages, hoping for a text that will never come. You haven't moved on, you have erased me. Reverted to a time long before I existed to you, like we never happened. Was none of it real to you? All a game in order to better your own standing?

Do you look for me like I look for you? Think of me as I think of you? No, for you are selfish and untrue. Your mask is convincing, but your heart moves in silences, lurking and waiting for the next opportunity for it to gain the upper hand. It lives in walls you have erected around it, or perhaps they have always existed.

When will the limerence end? The hope and longing that things will change. That this was all a dream and I will wake once more with you beside me, grinning with love just as you used to. The duality is strange, and hard to navigate. The love and loss, the grief and relief. The fight for dominance in my head, begging me to pull you back and push you away again.