I think I was wrong when I reassured you that you weren’t like him. Well, maybe I wasn’t wrong, because you’re not like him. A part of me feels as though you’re worse. I knew he was a monster, but he had beaten me down so bad I felt the torture he inflicted on me was well deserved. You were your own monster, because I didn’t even notice the way you tortured me. I believed you wholeheartedly. I believed every promise you ever made. I invested my heart so fully, with absolutely no fear, because I never believed you’d be a person to hurt me. The shaking you saw was a trauma response to a different type of abuse. But I still sat there convincing you that you didn’t compare.

I’ve spent years recovering from the things he put me through. Parts of me have started to heal. What you put me through, broke everything I had spent the last 9 years putting back together. You said to me the next day “I don’t know how to fix you.” That shattered me, and I kept saying over and over “but I’m not broken!” The truth is, I wasn’t shattered because I felt you looked at me as a bird with a hurt wing. I wasn’t destroyed because I felt like you thought I was someone to “fix.” I kept saying “I’m not broken,” but I never believed those words. You didn’t know how to fix me, but you knew how to break me. You did it every day for 5 months. You broke me down into nothing, and when the time came that you promised to help put me back together, you left. You walked away like it was a hit and run accident and you knew you couldn’t get caught.

I now know I never needed you, the same way I never needed him. The hold you had on me was nothing more than Stockholm syndrome, and now I’m finally free. So here is to all of your broken promises, and how you go to sleep at night convinced you did all you could. I think I know what you meant, when you said you felt “stuck” with her. You are stuck, and you are broken. And I do not know how to fix you when you do not want to fix yourself. However, I have been broken before. I have put my pieces back together. I will do it again, because I know how to fix the pieces you shattered. You, however, will be ready one day. I could have taught you how to mend your emptiness, but now, I hope you learn to do it yourself. I’ll be here when you do, beaming with pride. I’m not sure at this point what you deserve anymore, I just know I deserve to never feel that low again.

My biggest wish is that you get out of your hell in one piece, and into my heaven. As of now, I’ll still look for you in the afterlife. I think your soul will look for me too, and I think it’ll spend the rest of wherever we end up, trying not to fix me, but trying to fix the one reality where it didn’t do it’s job.

I think I was wrong when I reassured you that you weren’t like him. Well, maybe I wasn’t wrong, because you’re not like him. A part of me feels as though you’re worse. I knew he was a monster, but he had beaten me down so bad I felt the torture he inflicted on me was well deserved. You were your own monster, because I didn’t even notice the way you tortured me. I believed you wholeheartedly. I believed every promise you ever made. I invested my heart so fully, with absolutely no fear, because I never believed you’d be a person to hurt me. The shaking you saw was a trauma response to a different type of abuse. But I still sat there convincing you that you didn’t compare.

I’ve spent years recovering from the things he put me through. Parts of me have started to heal. What you put me through, broke everything I had spent the last 9 years putting back together. You said to me the next day “I don’t know how to fix you.” That shattered me, and I kept saying over and over “but I’m not broken!” The truth is, I wasn’t shattered because I felt you looked at me as a bird with a hurt wing. I wasn’t destroyed because I felt like you thought I was someone to “fix.” I kept saying “I’m not broken,” but I never believed those words. You didn’t know how to fix me, but you knew how to break me. You did it every day for 5 months. You broke me down into nothing, and when the time came that you promised to help put me back together, you left. You walked away like it was a hit and run accident and you knew you couldn’t get caught.

I now know I never needed you, the same way I never needed him. The hold you had on me was nothing more than Stockholm syndrome, and now I’m finally free. So here is to all of your broken promises, and how you go to sleep at night convinced you did all you could. I think I know what you meant, when you said you felt “stuck” with her. You are stuck, and you are broken. And I do not know how to fix you when you do not want to fix yourself. However, I have been broken before. I have put my pieces back together. I will do it again, because I know how to fix the pieces you shattered. You, however, will be ready one day. I could have taught you how to mend your emptiness, but now, I hope you learn to do it yourself. I’ll be here when you do, beaming with pride. I’m not sure at this point what you deserve anymore, I just know I deserve to never feel that low again.

My biggest wish is that you get out of your hell in one piece, and into my heaven. As of now, I’ll still look for you in the afterlife. I think your soul will look for me too, and I think it’ll spend the rest of wherever we end up, trying not to fix me, but trying to fix the one reality where it didn’t do it’s job.

I think I was wrong when I reassured you that you weren’t like him. Well, maybe I wasn’t wrong, because you’re not like him. A part of me feels as though you’re worse. I knew he was a monster, but he had beaten me down so bad I felt the torture he inflicted on me was well deserved. You were your own monster, because I didn’t even notice the way you tortured me. I believed you wholeheartedly. I believed every promise you ever made. I invested my heart so fully, with absolutely no fear, because I never believed you’d be a person to hurt me. The shaking you saw was a trauma response to a different type of abuse. But I still sat there convincing you that you didn’t compare.

I’ve spent years recovering from the things he put me through. Parts of me have started to heal. What you put me through, broke everything I had spent the last 9 years putting back together. You said to me the next day “I don’t know how to fix you.” That shattered me, and I kept saying over and over “but I’m not broken!” The truth is, I wasn’t shattered because I felt you looked at me as a bird with a hurt wing. I wasn’t destroyed because I felt like you thought I was someone to “fix.” I kept saying “I’m not broken,” but I never believed those words. You didn’t know how to fix me, but you knew how to break me. You did it every day for 5 months. You broke me down into nothing, and when the time came that you promised to help put me back together, you left. You walked away like it was a hit and run accident and you knew you couldn’t get caught.

I now know I never needed you, the same way I never needed him. The hold you had on me was nothing more than Stockholm syndrome, and now I’m finally free. So here is to all of your broken promises, and how you go to sleep at night convinced you did all you could. I think I know what you meant, when you said you felt “stuck” with her. You are stuck, and you are broken. And I do not know how to fix you when you do not want to fix yourself. However, I have been broken before. I have put my pieces back together. I will do it again, because I know how to fix the pieces you shattered. You, however, will be ready one day. I could have taught you how to mend your emptiness, but now, I hope you learn to do it yourself. I’ll be here when you do, beaming with pride. I’m not sure at this point what you deserve anymore, I just know I deserve to never feel that low again.

My biggest wish is that you get out of your hell in one piece, and into my heaven. As of now, I’ll still look for you in the afterlife. I think your soul will look for me too, and I think it’ll spend the rest of wherever we end up, trying not to fix me, but trying to fix the one reality where it didn’t do it’s job.

“If I ever got a real chance with you, I would make it work. I would figure my life out, with you.”

It was like the pieces fell together instantly. My mind stopped racing, I was finally able to breathe. I no longer felt like the option you’d never choose. I finally believed every word you had ever said to me.

I stopped saying “I love you more.” It didn’t feel like a competition. I didn’t feel like I had to fight with you over it. For 45 days, I actually believed someone loved me the same way I loved them.

I sat there and waited. I killed myself wishing for the possibility for you to make your words a reality, because for me that’s what they became, the moment they left your lips. I believed you. After months of reassurance, fighting over the truth, you begging me to trust you, my walls came down. I believed every word you said to me that day. I never knew that the one thing you made me wholeheartedly trust you for, was the one thing you never believed even for a second.

45 days later I actually did pose the question. The answer devastated every wall I had built back up. “It’s too late.” Forty five days. And then I realized, I wasn’t too late. You just never thought I’d show up. I had no way of being on time to a truth that only existed in my imagination. It was a game you thought I’d never come to the table for. You thought I’d never catch onto your poker face, and that the lie you told could remain truth in both of our minds forever. But only in our minds.

I think I knew the first day you told me you’d “figure it out,” that you didn’t believe it. You couldn’t look me in the eye, your left cheek sunk in to your teeth. Now that I see it without blinders, you and I both knew you were lying to me that day. To you, it felt good. You “hoped” to make it work. You wanted to “try.” But to me, you didn’t say it that way. So now, you can keep your hope, along with every ounce of mine. It is yours, it can never be mine again. Hope was all I had for these 45 days. I lost it all in a second. How lucky are you, to know the truth all along. To know that for your dream, I was awake. For your imagination, it was my reality. I lived it every single day, until I was evicted. That reality became my home, and now it’s gone. I’m happy you’ve moved in, I hope you can feel the comfort I did while I was there.

It hurts to realize that our bedrooms are the only place we will ever exist. There is no you and I outside of these four walls. The world will never know you love me. The only difference is my world knows I love you. That’s what you became, my world. I kept my promise. I never lied. I would have “figured it out” for you. I always thought I spent all of my time in bed because I was depressed, anxious, sad, exhausted. I think I spent my time there because it was the only place we had. When you moved me out, it became my home. It’s the only place where I forget that I’m not enough, nor will I ever be enough. I’m not your choice, but an option. Except, I’m the option that will never be picked. As much as that destroys me, I would stay in this bedroom forever for you. It is the only place I feel like I’m living. I don’t want to live, but I would live forever here with you.

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath. Who would have thought that what was once my favorite lyrics to sing with you, became the words that would haunt me forever.

I don’t expect this pain to ever stop. I used to think that it would get easier with time. That maybe one day things wouldn’t hurt so much, that I would get used to it. I now know that was never the case. This will destroy me until my last breath, but that’s okay. Because I keep my promises. Unlike you, the words I said to you were an oath. I promised to stay, no matter what. So for you, I will.