Romance

A Day In The Life Of Your Abuse

I woke up this morning, turned to my side, and saw you sleeping so peacefully like you do every night. I never dared to make a sound, shifting to my feet slowly, opening the bedroom door with the weakest strength to go to the kitchen and make my coffee, making sure not to wake you. Everything is so peaceful.

As I boil some water, I think to myself that I must be dreaming. When has it ever been this quiet with you? I’m supposed to live my days in a battlefield, screaming at the top of my lungs, crying my eyes out, accepting every punch, every slap, every shove the ground, every strangle.

Then I breathe. I’m awake, and you being asleep is just the calm before every storm. Why am I not used to this yet?

You wake up and I lay down next to you, eyes half open with a frown in your face. It’s so early. It’s too early. I always have to ask you what’s wrong, and the answer I always get is either a push away. If I’m lucky, it’s only a shrug. But we don’t speak for the next few hours, and during that time, I wreck my mind trying to figure out whether I’d said or done something wrong. Maybe the night before, maybe even in my sleep.

Once you’re up, you go about your day as if nothing wrong had been done. How many times have you punched me in your sleep whenever I tried to kiss you? It doesn’t matter, it never did.

We talk, laugh, eat, go out when you want to and as soon as we get back, you scold me. There was something (yet again!) that didn’t sit well with you that came out of me earlier in the day. And I realize, I’m home. Home to the warzone you somehow manage to create every single time. Home to the knives pointed at me, to the words that break my heart into two. I’d choose those knives through me every day, instead of hearing words come out of your mouth that I’d have to live with for the rest of my life. My things flying around the house, yours being packed in a bag, until I gather every ounce of strength I have left in me to beg for you to stay. Even with all the cuts and bruises, I want you to stay.

I might need to kneel, kiss your feet, put my pride down; I’ll do anything for you to stay. And so, you do.

And even after all of that, you take me into your arms, kiss me, and you apologize. And without a shadow of a doubt, I fall into your magic again. Wipe my tears, lay down on your chest, breathe, and I fall asleep to the beat of your heart calming me down.

Until the next morning…

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I'd like to think I'm good at love. Truth is, I suck too. Follow Kristel on Instagram or read more articles from Kristel on Thought Catalog.