WHAT THEY DON’T TELL YOU ABOUT BEING CHEATED ON
1. Everything he ever complimented is tainted. It feels like it was all a sick joke—the way you smiled, turned bright red—the punchline. Your History professor that saw you crying, the hole you punched in the wall, her shaking hands as she told you it’s her he loves, not you—the audience.
2. You may not have been the one who did something wrong but you’re sure as hell the only one that will be punished for it.
3. It can hit you anytime, anywhere, and it will—when you see a boy who wears his shoes with a girl who wears the same desperate, smug love in her eyes. Then, every inch of you stabbing pain of why wasn’t I good enough, dull ache of they’re all like this, aren’t they? heart attack of I just want him to be happy.
4. I know he swore to you on his life that it was just a mistake, it doesn’t change how he felt about you, it’s just because he’s fucked up. Baby this is what he does, he lied to you before and he’ll do it again if you make him. Stop waiting on the validation, the love he can’t ever give you. He does not care about you.
5. Every excuse you make for him is a handgun that points at you every time. Don’t you have enough wounds already?
6. It’s okay if you still love him.
7. You know it wasn’t your fault—you know that. Then, when you tell someone you were cheated on you suddenly become very aware of your hands. They’re so ready to defend you. You become very aware of their eyes on your body searching for a place that looks more like an exit sign.
8. He will make promises just like he makes mistakes—often and without responsibility.
9. People tell you that you have to walk away when you’ve been cheated on, but what about when there’s nothing to walk away from? What about when he didn’t ever want to stay, anyways, but you need to walk away from something—you need some power—so you walk away from everything you ever cared about and call it a day. Call it forgiveness. Call it whatever the fuck you want because you know it isn’t gonna call you back.
10. The pain doesn’t wear his face. It doesn’t matter who he is because it’s not about him anymore. One day you see him with her and your stomach doesn’t find a new home on the floor of the sidewalk and your heart says “I think I’d like to stay where I am, if that’s okay” but, still, every single day your heart feels like a rest stop that people tear through on the way to something better. Every single day you have to fight to remind yourself you’re more than just scars and skin. After you’ve forgotten his name, the song he sang that turned all of February into a religious holiday, you still wear your pain on your sleeve like you’re a slave to the cold now and you know it. Winter is here to stay and you know it.
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