Two Years Later

To be honest, it still hurts me...deeply. And it's not that I still love him, I don't. And it's not even that he stopped loving me. It's because after he stopped loving me, he stayed and lied and acted as if any changes in his feelings were a direct effect of my smothering neediness. His elaborate lie reduced me to a driveling idiot with no self-respect. That's just cruel and all too usual punishment that even on my worst day was undeserved. He could have been honest with me, and I could have had the opportunity to leave with some dignity. But at that point, I was so worthless to him that my feelings meant nothing. So he kept lying, telling me he loved me and that I was just demanding to much of him. This pattern kept me just close enough to come running when he called.

When I look back at the girl I was and realize I am responsible for all those words and actions, I hate him for changing me. Back then, I was vulnerable, tender, and stupid. Now I seem cold, hard, and calloused. And hating myself is much more painful than hating him.