I don’t even know where to put all of this anymore. The emotions, the confusion, the hurt — they feel too big for my chest. I don’t know how to feel or what to do with anything I’m carrying. I keep trying to make sense of something that refuses to make sense.
You never follow through. You never show up in the ways you promise, and I’m starting to accept that maybe you never will. I keep asking myself if you actually care, or if you’re only with me because I haven’t left yet. Maybe that’s the real truth: you stay because I stay, not because you love me. I remember asking you once if I was the love of your life, and you shrugged it off like it meant nothing. You said you didn’t even know what that meant. And maybe that answers everything I’ve been afraid to admit.
The pain in my chest is sharp and constant. It sits there like a weight. I don’t understand why I don’t have the courage to leave — why I go insane when you don’t let me, why I lose myself trying to escape and then hate myself for staying. I keep replaying everything. I know I tried to leave again. I know I kicked you when I panicked. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever done, and the shame eats at me. But even that doesn’t erase what came after.
The bruises tell the story my mind tries to soften. The split in my ear. The side of my head black and blue. The blood matted in my hair. The fear. The way your words felt like they were tearing something inside me. You keep saying you didn’t throw me onto the cement, but my body remembers differently. You say you were the one hurt — but I walked away covered in bruises while you didn’t have a single mark.
You kept talking about your pain, your hurt, like mine didn’t exist.
And then, after all of it, you drop me at the airport. I turn around and catch you staring at another blonde girl — the type you always look at, the type I’ll never be — and this horrible question hits me again: If I was her, would he do any of this to me? Would he hurt her the way he hurts me? Or is it something about me that makes this happen?
I don’t know why it feels like my heart is breaking open. I don’t know how I ended up here, or how I’m still here. All I know is that something inside me is screaming that this isn’t love. That this pain is too familiar. That this version of myself is disappearing.
And I don’t know what to do next.
But I know this hurts.
And I know I deserve better than this.
