Berated Beloved

Maybe I was some revenge plot against your ex. Maybe I was your band-aid, to fill the black hole that she left.  And for awhile, I held you together. For awhile, I helped you to heal.

But, slowly, I began to whither. I could feel me taking on parts of you that were causing my symptoms to rush back in. I could feel myself slipping back into the parts of me that I had broken free from.

As my bandaging work began to unravel, so did you. I couldn’t be enough of a covering for the wounds she had inflicted. I would never be enough. You saw that, and so you ran.

You ran away, leaving me with the broken pieces of my bones, that I tried to use to fix you. You left me crumpled on the floor like a discarded shell. I was no longer of use to you.

I lost myself in helping you. I almost drown while teaching you to swim again. You took on too much water, and I tried to use my body as a raft for you.

When you left, I had nothing of myself. I was a shell. A hollow being. After some time, I began to gain strength. I began to learn to love the parts of myself that I had hidden away. I began to heal for my own sake.

Then you tried to come back into my life. I felt used. I realized that all I ever was to you was a failed attempt to bridge the gap between where you are and where you want to be. Maybe you were with me to fix your sore ego. Maybe you were with me as a way to get back at her. Maybe you were with me because you wanted to heal.

I was appalled by your audacity to think that you could waltz back into my life, plop yourself back on my sofa, and pretend that you didn’t destroy me.

You did not take too kindly to me newfound desire to be free of your poisonous grasp, and yet again I found myself apologizing.

I no longer feel sorry. You showed me your true colors that day, and solidified my need to distance myself from your influence. You are toxic to me.

You are not the only one who is allowed to feel pain. You are not the only one who is allowed to experience sadness. Just because you were the one inflicting the pain, does not make it any less real.

These are the words I was unable to utter the day that you berated me with your searing remarks. These are the words that I had buried under my apologies that spilled out of my mouth.

These are the words that have haunted me.

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