You broke me. You broke me with your words and your looks and memories. You broke me with your silence. Some days I just crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and hope that I disappear and sink deep into the depths of my mattress. I hope that I melt away into the dreams that so often haunt me. I sit on the floor and repeat the words to myself over and over and over again. I look in the mirror as the tears stream down my face and hope that somehow this will be the last time. But I know it won’t. You have single-handedly torn me apart and shredded me into tiny little pieces.
I wish I didn’t. I wish I could feel the hate flowing through my veins for the way you’ve made me feel. I wish I could go to bed every night saying, “Fuck it!” because I know I deserve better than this (because I do). I wish I could look at you straight in the eye and tell you I don’t care anymore. But I can’t. Because I forgive you.
I forgive you because I know you’ve been broken too. I know that you are terrified of who you are and who you aren’t. I know you’re scared of what they’ll think. I know someone took you and shoved you into a box so small that you couldn’t breathe. I know you’re in there, thrashing around with knives just trying to get out. I tried to open it for you and I got too close…I got cut.
I forgive you because I know you are good. You are the most beautiful soul that I have ever met. To me you were open, honest, loving, caring, and most importantly: deep. There is so much more to you that everyone doesn’t know.
I forgive you because love isn’t about only accepting someone when they are at their brightest, it is about knowing every hidden dark corner of their being and choosing to understand their actions instead of faulting them. And if there was someone you needed you cut in order to escape….I’m glad it was me.