I had standards. I had rules to my love. But then he came along and none of it mattered. I let him bend the rules and it wasn’t because I was dumb or some pathetic sap who was just desperate for anything with a pulse to love me. I truly believed that we were happy and I was too loved for this to be wrong.
I let my guard down because I wanted him close enough to really protect me.
I was shortsighted and didn’t realize that with every step closer to my heart, he was taking advantage of his new ‘claimed’ territory where he could hurt, mistreat, and torture me and I wouldn’t ever feel threatened.
His yelling, violent tendencies and the controlling sides of him never triggered an alarm for me. Or maybe they did, but I was too busy saving the bits of our love that were still healthy.
So instead of holding him accountable, I wrapped his despicable actions up in stitches and staples and I tolerated the pain.
It hurt a whole damn lot but we weren’t broken yet. There were still the parts of him that were genuine, charming and sincere. So I thought that if I could just protect him, he’d show me more of that side and I could really love him the way I really wanted to.
I tried to be strong because honestly, I felt weaker without him. I twisted reality for myself and for everyone I knew. But a forced smile and fake facade can only pick a person up so much when you’re continuously being walked all over with lies and abuse.
Inevitably, I had to take the band-aids off because I wasn’t healing with him. Some days it hurts more than it ever did when he was around. It’s hard to know that I’ll forever have these scars and there’s nothing I can do about it. To know that even though he’s gone, I’ll always be reminded of him is irritating. To know I have these scars not because of turmoil and distress but from a fabricated love story is maddening. But what’s the worst is feeling broken, disappointed and still wanting the truth to be a lie.