It takes a special kind of toxic selfishness to alienate someone from those who love them the most. It takes a total absence of empathy to resolve to a level of possessiveness that can only be explained by deep insecurities. You absolve yourself of all your mistakes by claiming that you were wounded, but weren’t we all? No one has ever escaped the tragedy that is life. No one has ever lived a life without loss, without pain. But suffering does not entitle you to wound others. Your pain does not excuse the pain you deliver, two wrongs don’t ever make a right. Some mistakes can never be forgiven. Death does not release us from all our sins.

There is terror to be found in arrogance. The sort of egoist who will only think of themselves, their love for you is merely an extension of their narcissism. You make them feel good, so they love you because you make them feel good. Your existence enriches their life, you exist to make their life better. You don’t understand the difference yet, but you will. You think a love composed of romance is foolish, I think your love has no substance.

I understand the appeal, it would be hypocritical for me to assume I would make better choices under the same circumstances. I have made worse choices before. There is a level of perverted comfort to this experience, when they have carefully manufactured your surroundings to make you feel that you’re the centre of their whole world. What more could you want than to be the centre of your lover’s universe? There is no escaping this sort of infatuation, we all fall.

But darling I see cruelty in his eyes, you see it too. You could have said “I love him, damn it”, and I would have understood, I would have done my best to. But how could you love a monster? You have to absolve him, you needed a defense more than he cared for. It wasn’t difficult to recompose the narrative. It’s always easier to blame someone else.

I understand, but I guess I had still expected better. Some betrayals are worse than others. Some cut you to your bone. You bleed even when you’re smiling. But I miss you still. I miss you so much I think I might be dying. You’ve always told me I’m sentimental to a fault, you’ve never been wrong about me. But I could never change, I never want to. Once upon a time you would have understood the hurt. The best thing about people is that they change. The worst thing about people, is that they change.

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