To Live With A Misleading Heart

Brunette woman doing a yoga pose inside long grass in Curitiba at sunrise
Andressa Voltolini / Unsplash

“This is exactly why I dated a girl.” Tears streaming down my face hitting my satin pillows as I fail to wipe before they hit. My chest is heavy at this point. I feel physically sick.

“Don’t say that. You don’t mean that.” Trying to diffuse my hurt.

“Congratulations. You’ve put my walls back up!” I jokingly say… using my humor to hide behind the distaste of all the things that want to flood out of my mouth.

That morning I truly felt like I was going to vomit…

Before I even read those texts… my intuition was screaming from the past few weeks of how distant you’ve been.

I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Trying to avoid the stereotypical overreactions of a girlfriend. But I knew… I knew something was up.

You deny… deny… then cry. Cry as you admittedly repent “I fucked up. I love you. I want only you. I’m sorry.”

I’m not buying it this time.

Out of all the times my trust has been misused… I would have to say I’m not surprised. It’s almost like a numbness has taken over. Yet every single time I still try to see the best in people…

I look you in the eyes and snap my fingers…

“It’s nothing for trust to shatter…”

I told you how hard it is for me to give myself again. How much the past defined my hatred for commitment. But you swore. You swore you would plant a seed that would heal, not hurt.

I took a long drive aimlessly spacing out. I just wanted to run away… Car radio on low… allowing my mind to flow in whichever direction it could take me.

… waterworks starting to rummage again… the only thing I could think of was how I know nothing. Nothing at all. How minuscule words are… & how you never really know a person the way your heart makes it seem… Thought Catalog Logo Mark


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