Even If It Wasn’t For You, It Was Real For Me

Maybe it’s just difficult to accept that for all the time we spent together, it was real for me, and for you it was some sort of fucked up game? Maybe it’s hard for me to fathom that someone can be so conniving, deceiving… fake. That someone can be so cruel, emotionless, and inhuman.

I used to think I had good judgment for my age and level of intellect- enough to know when I am being played or taken advantage of. I can’t say I trust myself in that aspect anymore because for the duration of our time together, I can honestly say I never knew you because the you I saw, never existed. Ted Bundy would have been proud of your level of duplicity.

Nevertheless, I was in love. I was willing to be with you forever. I would have done anything for you. To me it was real. It was more than physical and it transcended anything I had ever dreamed of. I would have done anything to make it work.

I’ll never know what you got out of it, though. Other than pleasure, feminine attention…feeling wanted on your clock and schedule. But I ask myself, aren’t there other methods of attaining this that don’t involve ferociously leading on a pure, good-hearted person? Did you have to destroy me in your eternal pursuit? What was I to you….

I look back at our time and it almost seems like it was a figment of my imagination because in several ways, that’s exactly what it was. And perhaps, this is the hardest part for me to grasp. The fact that you fooled me, lied to me, played me. The fact that you made me question my own sanity. The fact that, at one point, I wanted to die.

I thought that you were the one. I thought that I had finally found what I had been desperately yearning for…Do you even care what you did? Do you feel any remorse from destroying someone genuine and good?

I don’t know what it was for you…heck, I don’t even know who you are. I still hate you. I still despise the ground you walk on. I hope someone does the same and more to you. And I don’t feel bad for feeling the way I do because for me it was real, pure, and true. But for you, I will never, ever know.

Writing is my therapy.

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