The saying you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friend that become your second family because that's true friend are, someone who would always love you. The imperfect you, the confused you, the wrong you because that is what friends are supposed to do. That wasn't the case with you, was it? I act like it wasn't a big deal, when it's reality it broke my heart and made me feel stupid for even trusting you again, but that's what I get for having a big heart like I do. I knew my mother warned me to let my heart be on my sleeves. I give you more chances than my own adoptive mother could have, more chances than my ex-husband had, even my abusers. I fucking trusted you and breaking someone's trust is like crumpling up a perfect piece of paper. You can smooth it over, but it'll never be the same again. I loved you at your darkest though you crucified me at mine you fucked up, and I give you credit for admitting it. You're sorry, but you, being sorry won't change what you did. You, being sorry, won't change the fact that I see you differently now, that I now feel differently about you. We all have our limits, boundaries that we set. Line that once crossed, cannot be crossed back. You crossed one of those lines, and now you must stay on the other side away from me. The taste of betrayal in my mouth makes me sick, you make me sick. The thought of you kills the butterflies I had in my stomach. It's funny you don't see who you really are that I must spell it out for you. Hopefully you can read between the lines.
Never admit to being wrong.
Avoids emotions and accountability.
Rages if anyone challenges them.
Childish when they don't get their way.
Instills doubt in their victims.
Stonewalls during conflict
Smears and slanders you.
In denial and gaslights, you
Subjects you to the silent treatment.
Triangulates you and tears you down.
The betrayal isn't causing me to cry because of you. I'm crying because my delusion of who you were was shattered by the truth of who you are.
YOU ARE READING
The stranger under the willow tree
Short StoryOn a frigid and blustery October evening, the radiant moon cast its glow upon a solitary willow tree, perched atop a hill. Beneath the tree sat a mysterious man, clutching a large, worn storybook. Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to a child, no more tha...
