It’s hard to explain why I’d considered it love in the first place, but I was convinced that something strong drew us together. I thought it was more than just lust and primal desires. That it wasn’t anything external that locked and suffocated me in. I believed in staggering souls that found one another, complemented what the other one wanted. That is the reason I longed for you; I thought there was something there.
I needed you. I wanted you to convince me that I was worthy. A sad thought now, I know. Believing that I was not enough on my own and in need of strength from another. Looking back, I could shrug it away and say I was young and stupid, but I know that’s not the case. I had the same head on my shoulders that I carry today. It wasn’t adolescent bliss that deceived me into thinking it was love; it was desperation for something much bigger than that. It was the want to be needed and loved.
Love was okay until one day it felt like deception.
I rationalized to myself and others. I tried to explain the reason why we stayed together. Even though my friends hated you, and I couldn’t muster up anything nice to say about you. I’d shrug it off and confide in my close friends that they couldn’t understand the desire that spiraled between us after our fights and tantrums. And then there was entertainment. Always a drama that surrounded our friends and with each other. Nights of yelling that exhausted the both of us until we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
It was an addiction to the rollercoaster of emotions, the highest highs, and the lowest lows. Why else would I have given myself, my time, my energy, my core to the mental abuse, drugs, and loneliness that our relationship provided.
Love was okay until I realized it wasn’t love at all.
In retrospect, we had absolutely nothing in common, and the mere thought of how far I’d dug myself into a hole to be with you, now makes me sick to my stomach. Surely it wasn’t love at all that had me up at odd hours wondering what would come home. Whether we’d find each other’s arms for companionship or rage from which I would recoil.
Love was okay until it was tested.
To this day I am grateful. Happy that you found yourself in my best friend’s arms. Delighted that you managed to give me an easy way out. Thrilled at the band-aid I yanked off my heart to reveal the wound that had healed long ago but that I had kept protecting. I am not sure how much longer I would have stayed trapped in the lie that our relationship was going somewhere, but I am glad that love for myself gave me the answer and pride wouldn’t let me stay any longer.
Love was okay when I realized it wasn’t too late to change the person I gave my love to.
