(TW : heavy topics, mentions of abuse)
I was reading the first volume of NANA and crying. It made me remember how big my emotions are. Seeing someone cry makes me feel their pain.. it reminds me of my own pain.
And so I thought, ‘my heart was once so big that I was even kind to germs’ and of course, I was thinking about my first boyfriend. Maybe it’s because this is the first time I truly feel I have clarity. It’s a new type of indifference where I think about how much I struggled from an external perspective and how our odd circumstances must have made things hard for him too.
When we broke up, I was going through a lot and I felt like I was drowning in an endless well of pain. I didn’t want to keep drowning so I channelled it into rage (and a lot of other misguided things I’d rather not mention).
It wasn’t till I was done with high school that I could mention him without talking about how I wanted to end his bloodline. That year I met him again and for some reason, thinking my thoughts to be very profound as a freshman in university, I decided the only way to move past everything was exposure therapy; to believe that behind all his manipulation was a human who cries and bleeds like any other.
Looking back at it now, I’m glad I made that mistake because it made me realise that somethings don’t change for the better by simple reconciliation. A man I found repulsive from the moment we met (a decade ago now) who was still a wilful child when I decided to initiate a random relationship due to fomo of all things; he seemed open minded and different after spending time abroad. He seemed kind and regretful and charismatic; and so I began to hope again. That dream I’d had for us- now that he’d changed- I wondered if it would come true.
How horrible is it to realise that you’re a moth drawn to a flame because the flame has abused you into thinking you’re drawn to it?
We were more blunt this time. His initial act of respect only made his latter expression of intention more disheartening. He was the man he’d always been- perhaps, it’s weird to blame someone for being themselves.
I know people who don’t want to be in serious relationships, don’t want to commit or those who partake in a ‘friends with benefits’ lifestyle aren’t doing anything bad. It’s their life which they can live however they want.
To be honest, my pain and past were so insufferable that now days fade in and out and I can hardly retain much. Caring about every little thing, obsessing over every detail and trying to live life as perfectly as possible didn’t do me any favours.
The years that followed were a misguided attempt of getting to know how people like him live and feel and think. After all, he only showed up for a couple days every year and so the devastation he left me with, that I refused to acknowledge, didn’t seem too bad.
I’ve always thought every bad choice I make just helps me make better choices in the future but being anxious all year round and worrying about being ‘good enough’ didn’t seem like things someone who treasured herself, after the way he treated me, would do.
Last year, I finally escaped from his clutches. I had grown up to become someone compelled towards his little attention but I knew I didn’t want to find myself in a living hell again.
I told myself, ‘I broke up with someone I truly loved, someone who respected me and wanted to give me everything under the sun because I deserved better; but this isn’t better.’
It was tough at first, to let go of our 6 year-long game of cat and mouse. I feel better this year; I don’t even want to see his sorry face ever again. I have no curiosity left in me. I no longer think he deserves redemption. I hate that I put myself through so much pain, that I didn’t love myself enough, that I struggled so much for years afterwards all because of a spontaneous decision.. but I’m so proud of myself of rising above it all and finally, setting myself free.
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
