Dug Too Deep

I haven’t been on tumblr in a year. This is so strange. I have to have some medium to let my fingertips get something out

I am so numb. I don’t feel anything anymore. I asked too many questions, and now I know that the entire time we were together was a gimmick. I fell out of love for you so quickly because it was so obvious the whole time, I was too busy with my life and my goals to pay too much attention to you, for some reason I constantly tried to impress you, but never could.

Your crippling addiction meant we could never have a normal relationship, You couldn’t go one day without looking at another naked woman. You obsessed with sex and I couldn’t ever be the nymphomaniac you dreamed and prayed I would be. I had to compete with something that wasn’t real. It would never be tangible for you. I allowed you to do things to me I would never let anyone else do because for some reason being abused was better than being alone. Sobbing in front of your blank face was something I got used to. You’re a sadist. You’re truly a sick monster and I played your game for so long.

You and I never once had a deep conversation. We drove to the top of the hill one time and over looked the city and the river long before I ever left for New York. You hated that I always wanted to talk, but now that I look back I think you just hated that you couldn’t improvise the right monologue to keep me around because you pick apart pieces of everyone else’s personality and try to play it off as your own.

I started calling people, asking questions and learning that you made every part of your life up. The more I learned the less I felt. The fake relationships. The macaroons. The extravagant dates. The selfies. The drugs. The websites. The stalking. The playlists. The movies. The online dating. The new phone numbers. The restraining orders. The evidence. I’ve driven myself crazy with the obsession to know the truth, and I wish I never knew. I wish you disappeared from my life. I wish I never had to say your name again. I wish I never got another piece of mail for you, another fragment of this freak that you are into my life…. which is completely destroyed, intentionally, by you.

I feel nothing at this point. I can’t even process anything in my mind except the insanity that this has gone to. This isn’t a breakup. This is a complete rediscovery of who you are. This is reminding myself that every single good memory in my mind isn’t real. That everything I did and everything I ever was to you was a cover-up for something else. You were never in love with me. You never intended to do anything but take my money, use my body, then blackmail me when I started recovering from life without you. You have forced me to feel something I’ve never experienced. I’ve never hated so passionately. This is a version of myself that I am afraid of

You should be to.