Maybe he was right. Those are words I never thought I would say. Those horrid words, "no one will ever love you the way that I did" might have been the death knoll for my trying to be in a relationship. Since after that, I haven't tried to date. I haven't really even bothered with online dating despite the fact that I know that my sister had such brilliant success in relationships and dating...well, my sister only really ever met her husband because of Match...I on the other hand have never really tried dating.
Since him, I've been on three dates? Or at least, that's how many I can remember. The guy who used to be a zoologist (and thought he was a great kisser, he wasn't), the guy who used to be in a cult, and the one who made me feel like I was on a date with a narrator for the history channel. Frankly, a narrator for the history channel would have been more entertaining.
It is almost as if, despite those three times, I have been afraid to date. As if my desire to find love has been squelched by eleven ill thought words. If I had known better, I would have said something biting back, but I didn't. I'm not that person. It like what my friends from all over the world have said I'm too kind, but I'm not. I would be too kind if I let you treat me like I was a ragdoll, like I were something you could disregard and treat with venomous hate and then move on. You don't deserve to move on. You don't deserve to find love again.
You never deserved my love. You weren't good to me, and let's face it, I wasn't good for you. Still, you went too far the night you tried to choke me in our apartment. You should know, that you are lucky that I didn't tell the cops that you had abused me when our neighbor called them. You should know that you are lucky to not have been in jail for domestic abuse. You are lucky to still be free and walking around after you tried to rape me. You are lucky that I am a pacifist because if I weren't, if I wanted to cause drama in my own life, if I wanted to live my life and be publicly known as a statistic – a statistic that you turned me into...you are lucky, you are lucky that I am too fucking nice. I shouldn't be too nice.
I know I don't need to tell the world, but I should tell the world that you aren't a good person. You never were. You raped me. You abused me. You broke me. You don't deserve my kindness, and you don't deserve love.
YOU ARE READING
I WISH THIS WERE A JOKING
General Fiction"Abuse does that to you - sure, you can say that this, is abuse. I know it is. I own the fact that my family life is fire and brimstone and navigating it isn't easy, but it wasn't like him. He was worse." At times harsh, its a simple story about lea...
