Trigger warning: Domestic Abuse
When I first met you, I was in awe of the way you carried yourself. You were a well put together man. You helped me get into my own house; you helped me be happy again, or so I thought. What I really mean to say is that you helped me forget about the reality that I had bigger things to deal with within myself. Somehow you convinced me that you loved my fucked up ways because they were so similar to yours. The difference is, I never wanted to be like you. I wanted to be better. The more we were around each other, the more I saw the terrible parts of you. The drugs, the manipulation, the lies, and the worst of all: the abuse. The physical and mentally draining abuse. You are truly a master manipulator. Yet I wanted to save you. I wanted to save you from yourself, but I partially believed the more I fixed other people, the less work I had to do within me, and that wasn’t fair. We’ve cut it off on multiple occasions, and I can’t count the times I’ve tried writing about you. You always told me not too. I’d either end up crying about all the pain I endured or I’d simply be overwhelmed by the amount of shit you put me through. Yet I was the one at fault.
If only I hadn’t taken your air duster away, you wouldn’t have punched me in the face.
If only I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have drug me across the broken glass that was laid upon the floor.
If only I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have left markings around my neck from where your fingers had been placed.
If only I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have broken my window and pulled me back inside the monster’s lair.
If only I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have poured alcohol in my eyes and yelled at me for shaking after.
If only I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have held a gun to my head.
But you know what I wanna say? If only I hadn’t met you.
If only I hadn’t been traumatized as a child, I would have been able to save myself from you. If only I had parents that raised me to steer clear of monsters like you instead of raising me in an environment where I thought that was normal. Fuck you for manipulating me to your liking and fuck me for seeing it but wanting to think I could somehow be immune to it. You will never change, and I have to understand that. You will succumb to the inevitable disaster of losing everything because of YOUR choices, and I can’t be the one to save you anymore. I can no longer come running to you. Look what saving you got me. Endless bruises, scars that nobody can see, and painful memories forever. I’m ready to fix myself. If there’s one thing I can thank you for, it’s for making me see the parts of myself I refused to see for so long. I will never be yours again, and I find solace in that. You always said I would never find another you, and you know what? I’m betting on it.
The girl who finally left.