I think it was the first time we met that I fell for you. I fell hard and fast, because you were a charmer and seemed to say all of the right things. You had a way with words and I never wanted them to end.
It never crossed my mind that there was anything that I needed to worry about.
But looking back at my life now, I see the mistakes. The mistake in choosing you. The mistake in ignoring their warnings.
The warnings that said you'd never change. That I should leave while I could. That it could only get worse...
And God, did it get worse.
The first time it happened, flowers and apologies greeted me the following day. Forgiveness was so easy, with your promises of it never happening again. After all, the bruises would fade, but I didn't want you to.
The flowers eventually withered away, along with your promises and my ability to hide the pain. Because those bruises didn't fade as I'd hoped. My skin, having become black and blue in so many places that I couldn't conceal it without hiding away.
So they noticed...
Not that you were around to care. Not that you heard their concerns. I stayed because I hated the thought of losing the person I loved, but it didn't stop you from leaving on your own.
I ask myself now why I cared that you left for weeks at a time. Why I didn't run while I had the chance. Why I waited for you to come back and do it again.
I told myself that you would change, it was a phase, I pushed the wrong buttons. I told myself that I deserved this. That this was because you loved me so much… too much.
I always wanted a love story of my own. And I was desperately trying to find the happily ever after I'd dreamed of, with you. So I chose you.
I chose to ignore them all. I chose to accept your apologies and forgive your "mistakes". I chose the person I'd first met with all of the faults that I'd come to learn of.
But ours wasn't a story of love, but one of pain, heartbreak, and tragedy.
Your refusal to change led me to the realization that I had to get out... So, I finally left. I walked away, not thinking of myself, but of you. You needed help and I couldn't give it to you. I couldn't be whatever you needed to fix the demons you were facing, so I took the advice I'd been hearing all along.
And I flourished without you. After doubting myself and letting you hold me down for so long, I blossomed. I was almost me again. Maybe not entirely, but a new version of myself that I was beginning to love.
The version that met new people, and started allowing the possibility of a new beginning, and new friendships become the light at the end of the dark tunnel I found myself in while trying to find a light in you.
But you're a weed in my life. I may have cut you down but I forgot to pull your roots. So you grew back.
Little by little I allowed you back in. Just enough for you to try and convince me you'd changed. To try and talk me into coming back.
I let my guard down once again, and allowed all the false promises to pull me under, telling myself that maybe losing me truly did change you.
Like I said, looking back at my life, I can see my mistakes clearly.
Maybe if I'd trusted the new me and not you, I'd still be alive. Maybe if I'd never opened that door again I could have found my love story with someone else. There are so many maybe's, but I'm all out of time.
You took everything from me. My love, my safety, my freedom, and in the end you even took my life.
It took me until that night to ask for help. You’d forced your way in, this time into my home instead of my life. I prayed, begging anyone and everyone to send help…
But I was gone before anyone could make it to save me.
Now I watch. I watch the grief and sadness. I watch friends miss me more than I thought possible.
And next...
I'll watch you go to hell. Not only for every horrible thing you did to me, but for being a coward. For running from your own miserable existence. For taking your life, just as you did mine.
And I hope it burns.