Soreth @Soreth@awoo.space

It does _not_ feel like it should be almost 5... o..o

So here I am now, four years later, scared to open the door and let anybody in, scared to look inside myself because my brain is a nest of trauma and regrets and pain, and unable to remember most of what happened for a year after I found out.

But surviving. Slowly but surely, one foot ahead of the other, surviving. Recovering as much as I can with time, trying to keep my thoughts from looping backward, which is all they want to do sometimes.

Besides, he was the more important one, obviously. He had a wife and children depending on him. I was obviously the expendable one. Obviously the one who should take the fall, if a fall need be taken. Why not?

I had, barely, enough self-awareness to realize that I was putting myself in danger with that line of thought. I told a few friends the things I would say if my mental state went too far south, and I am still ashamed with myself that I put that on them.

And when everything fell apart and I finally found out he'd been married and raising kids and lying to me, obviously it had to be _me_ who was defective. Because he had a family, because I still loved him, he became the one who was okay. Everything was obviously my fault, due to my own lacks, my own faults, flaws. I trusted him, right? My gullibility. I waited too long to tell him I loved him. It was all my fault, I couldn't believe otherwise.

"At least there's someone who loves me," I'd think to myself. "Someone who's completely honest with me."

Blind. Blind, blind, blind. I loved him, I trusted him more than anyone else in the world. Blind and stupid and trusting someone completely unworthy of it.

He told me I was the only one he was interested in, while he was raising his kids. His fucking _kids_.

I guess the one good thing I got out of the whole shitfest was learning what a completely unhealthy relationship looked like. I so badly needed something to be going well in my life that I was forever giving him a pass.

And I still had panic moments when it seemed just completely unbelievable that he hadn't found someone else, and he'd reassure me that no, I was the only romance in his life. And I'd believe him and things would go okay for a little while.

Me: As long as I keep myself from thinking or remembering, I'm fine.

My Brain: Hahahaha fat chance. *slaps cerebellum* This baby can fit SO MUCH TRAUMA. Let's open the hood.

It's not a good morning. Memories keep bubbling up. I've already asked for Tuesday off this week at work, because if it's this bad already it's going to be a goddamn nightmare by the time I get to the actual anniversary.

Damn him anyway. If he'd ever fucking been honest, I wouldn't be broken now.

Forked tongues a-flickering~