Wait:The End

Not to say that this blog is over.

Of course not.

There’s still too much left to be said.

I still struggle day to day.

There are still days I think of him.

Sometimes, I even still miss him.

Sitting with my husband yesterday, watching a movie, and cuddling, we started talking about Phantom of the Opera. For a brief moment I remembered.

I remembered a night sitting on the couch, cuddling in the dark and watching the scene. The first real kiss I’d received.

I remembered the first night he’d spent there with me. Cuddling on the couch, curled up on his chest. Waking up at 5 A.M. so we didn’t get caught and him sleeping on the floor, the only thing touching our hands.

For a moment, I felt a brief ache. An ache for a love lost and a broken heart. A missing piece of myself and that person I lost and the person I was.

Then I looked into my husband’s laughing eyes and the ache faded quickly, instead filling with the happiness, joy, and love that I feel with him.

Even if he’s telling me he’s getting ready to run away and goes scuddling out the doorway.

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Death itself: The Lie of Truth

As it turned out, it was all a lie.

That one post.

The single post.

Exposed him for what he is.

I was furious, couldn’t believe it. So I picked up my husband’s phone and texted him.

He responded right away.

Furious, I waited for a bit. I thought about it, considered it.

What should I do?

Should I just walk away?

Should I confront him?

What would I say?

I was so hurt and so betrayed, of all things to lie about…this was not one of them.

He’d crossed the line.

So after a while, I picked up my phone and I texted him.

I sent a long message, thought out and furious.

Confronting him about the lie he’d told, that I knew he’d told it. I couldn’t understand why though. My message was more a long serious of questions followed by,

I never want to hear from you again. 

In all honesty, I believe he didn’t care. I believe he deleted the text, shrugged his shoulders, and continues to live his life as is.

He’s a narcissistic.
He doesn’t love.
He doesn’t care.
It’s always, all about him.
And it always will be.

He never cared about me, that’s for sure.
He’ll never care about anyone else either.

When I made that choice to send him that and block his number, I knew, he’d finally realized he could no longer use me.

I would no longer be his little sex slave, always bowing down to him when he wished it.

I’d moved on from and I’d grown beyond him.

I know now.
He saw this and tried to bring me back.
Instead, he just lost me completely.

And, I got my life back


To say the least: Death Itself

To say the least, what happened next, was just too far for me.

Despite it all.

All the damage we’d done, all the hurt we’d caused.

The heart ache I felt, the heart ache he felt. What we’d done to our loved ones, what his loved one had done to him.

Through it all, no matter how bad, we’d somehow stuck together.

We were sick. I realize this now.

He still hasn’t seen the truth.

We have, had I should say, mutual friends on Facebook, and I saw something on a post. A simple post sparked my curiosity. So I did some digging and amazingly enough, I found a post that he’d commented on. The very next day after he had attempted to kill himself.

After I’d been told he’d been sent to the fourth floor.

I’d been sad and hurt. I felt disappointed that he’d done this and disappointed that I hadn’t done more. Sad that he felt he needed to do this. Disgusted with myself that if he had of died, just that he’d gone through with it, that it was my fault. But at the same time happy and bittersweet that he was getting the help he needed that he wouldn’t accept from anyone else or seek himself. Help that I couldn’t give him.

 

 


Never Again

After the end, after he walked away, at times I just wished he’d really leave and others I’d wished he’d return. Even after he moved on, he still came back and I still held on.

Even after I let go, he still came back, and I still accepted.

Even after he moved in with her, I was still there.

It wasn’t until the last time.

The last time was the end.

He contacted me, said he was sorry.

I asked for what. I had no idea what he was talking about.

I hadn’t talked to him in nearly 6 months by that point.

His parents had separated and were getting a divorce.

He said he couldn’t handle it and he was sorry for everything he did.

That was it.

I didn’t hear from him.

I felt horrible.

So torn, so miserable.

So when I texted him after I got off work, I got a response, but not from him.

Instead, it was from someone else.

He was in ICU they said.

He’d ODed, they told me.

I was so upset.

If I’d answered sooner, answered the call…maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t have been there.


Destruction

destroyThe truth of the matter is, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you will it or how much you love that one person. Sometimes, you will never be enough. You will never be able to change them. You’ll never be able to make them care. You will never be what they need. In the end, you just have to move on because it’s better to not see as the one with your ¬†heart destroys themselves rather than stand and be destroyed with them.


Welcome to my life

A new tale to be told, a new horrifying affair left to leave scars to stretch a life time.

Come to see Beyond the mask, come to see the real me.

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Sweet:Bitter

And so our story progresses to a simple girl who made a fool and caused a war between two nations.

She dreamt and she hoped.

She was torn and depressed, believing to be in love with two men.

Soon to come find that love was just infatuation and the other a burn in her heart that had no cure.

A possession so deep that could last several life times.

A darkness hidden away that would bring any hero to his knees.

But a singing in her soul for the man like she.

And so our minor interlude ends with the bitter sweetness of revenge.