Ever Since New York

Was I Stupid To Love You?

I was exhausted.

I had worked the entire week, almost every single day a double. My writing was put aside this week and when I did try to work on it, Bradley suggested we go out. Actually, no. He didn't suggest it. He demanded it.

I sigh, running my hands through my hair. We went out again tonight, some nice bar that made me wish I could drown myself in alcohol. I'd left them in the booth and ordered four shots of tequila and a glass of gin from the bar, hoping to give myself some kind of buzz. Bradley must of saw me when I was knocking back the third shot. Before I could pick up the fourth, he'd yanked me away from the bar and into a back hallway. He whisper yelled at me for a good ten minutes before I pointed out his friends would be wondering where we were.

I'd followed him back to the table and told them I wasn't feeling well, hinting to Bradley I wanted to leave. He just looked at him, his eye's glinting, daring me to ask him to leave. I could have just so he would seem like a jackass to his friends if he said no. But I then when we got home, he would yell loudly and I would most likely cry. So, I said I was going home. By myself.

I should have known I would leave alone. I shouldn't have even thought he would leave for me.

Now I was wandering the streets of New York, the air slightly brisk. My original intention was to go home but I didn't want to face the loneliness of the apartment. Or all the little things that would make me think of Bradley and worry whether I made a mistake.

When I arrived in New York, my goal was to write and infiltrate the writing community. But Bradley captivated me and overcame my senses, convinced me I needed to become accommodated to the city before I did anything drastic. He encouraged me to move in with him, saying my apartment was too much for my waitress salary. And after I'd lived with him for a couple months, he persuaded me to quit my job, trying to make me into a housewife. He pushed me to take care of the house and only allowed me to go out if he was there. I had to practically beg him to let me hang out with Heather.  When I finally was fed up with staying home, it took months of convincing before he let me  get another job and he didn't even do that until two months ago.

He was my life. He helped distract me from how messed up my life before New York really was.

I followed the crowd walking in the direction of Times Square with Heather's voice ringing in my head. He gets mad at me for doing things I love. He yells at me for drinking more than a glass of wine in front of his friends. He never takes my side with anything, always saying I'm in the wrong and I'm stupid for thinking anything different.

Was I stupid to be in love with him? Was I in love with him?

When I think of him, I don't feel gooey or happy or adoration or pride. My chest aches and my throat feels tight. I'm tense around him. I feel empty.

Pulling out my phone, I looked up signs of a toxic relationship. I didn't think we had a toxic relationship but the first one made my heart sink. I scrolled down, quickly reading through the rest of them, my unease growing.

It feels bad all the time. Bracing for the questions and the comments about your behavior. Avoid saying what you need to because there is no point. There's no effort. All the work and compromise comes from you.

The list goes on and on.

I was in a toxic relationship with a toxic person who did not care about me.

Sitting down on one of the bleachers, I rested my hand on my fist. People filled up the area, lights flashing, billboards changing. These people looked happy. I wonder if it was a front like it was for me. I wonder if they were in toxic relationships. Or if their family was a mess and angry with them.

People laughed and joked. Pointed at the billboards and the different ads on them. Carried shopping bags and wore I LOVE NEW YORK t-shirts.

It made me angry. I thought being surrounded by people would make me feel better, less alone. I felt worse. My apartment sounded awfully appealing right now. But I'm was going to have to face Bradley at some point tonight. He was going to come home and I was going to have to face him. Even if I went to sleep, I'm sure he would wake me up.

What was I going to do?

Our relationship wasn't normal. It wasn't healthy. I wasn't happy and he-he controlled me.

Standing from my spot on the bleachers, I left Times Square and hailed a cab. The drive was quiet, leaving me to my loud thoughts.

How did I let it get to this?

I was broken when I first arrived in New York. My family had broken me. I had moved out while I was in college to put some space between me and them. But that didn't stop my mom asking me for help and guilting me into it when I said no. Not that she didn't need it. My dad left her broken and I ended up being her support.

But at some point, I couldn't take it anymore. I had nothing left to give. And the only way I could think to help myself was to leave.

Bradley saw a broken girl and took advantage of her. I've filled in the cracks that my family left but he's created more. And just like with my family, something needs to change.

A sick feeling settled in my stomach as we got closer and closer to my apartment.

A decision has to be made tonight and I'm notsure I'll make the right one.