It felt right it felt right

I’m not very good at expressing my feelings. Usually I’m really awkward about relationships. I’ll brag and show off around you until I offend you or hurt you at one point. Once I see you’re hurt, this is when I start to fall for you. Everything before was just me assessing your character and qualities and skills and making guesstimates about our compatibility. And of course, the rush of being wanted is flattering.

Do I care if I’m fair? If I’m kind? No, of course not. What happened to the Japanese when they broke the rules of war in Nanjing? If you break the rules of war you get no mercy. Hiroshima is big-time karma.

The rules of love are similar to the rules of war. Until you set your stakes and ask to be each other’s one and only, it’s implicitly agreed that each persons freedom is respected. How could you hold someone to an agreement without their consent? But the thing is… you hate cats. Cats require consent to enjoy their company. Guess what else you don’t like.

It felt so right, so, so good. you gave me everything I dreamt of. How could anyone resist the perfect, custom tailor-made fantasy. You showed me the possibilities of never being alone again, sleepovers and pillowforts and living together with your friends and my friends and treehouses and saving the world and superhero aliases and inside jokes and matching sweaters.

I thought it was my fault. I felt terrible I thought you would listen to reason. Part of me felt empty too. The thing is, I feel my emotions through music but whenever it came to you I couldn’t hear the music. There was one song about sex and, that’s it. Did I not love you because you didn’t know how to feel love? I couldn’t catch a signal from you, I couldn’t make a connection. It’s like you were so cold and empty inside. It threw me off, I admit. I was confident one moment and the next day you’d make some joke or stay silent without a reaction. Sometimes you’d react with anger or jealousy to a really small thing, and I’d think hm that’s strange, you were so excited about my goals the other day. I thought it was so cool when you encouraged me to study less, go back on social media, spend more money, take more naps, text during meetings, work out less. I’d tell my friend, hey how come he isn’t so motivated it’s really annoying? But he’d say I don’t know what you mean he told me he’s studying all the time.

You gave me bad vibes from the start. I’d approach but always say no. Some instinct inside felt that there was nothing about you to connect to. You didn’t know who you were or have an identity, that’s obvious to anyone. I didn’t think you were my equal, I knew guys like you would fumble in my presence. I didn’t think you’d fumble this hard though.

Remember that story about how I got revenge after being cheated on? I never actually did anything, I just stepped away and let karma do the rest. That’s the thing with you, you’re always trying so hard, but I’ll let you in on a secret, it’s supposed to be easy.

Oh but you got me, you got me through the images, through the songs and stories and glances and silences and we’ll-timed looks of contempt. You got me through the times you said you admired how I always respond to any situation with kindness. That really got me bad, I gave more and more until my soul felt dry and bitter. I lost sleep and got acne break outs. I felt like you bruised and battered my mind and heart. I was numb all over, that feeling of a humming quiet anxiety. As if any second you might unleash your terror. It spoke to the most forgotten corners of my mind, all those fears of abuse I locked up long ago and didn’t face, of course you knew this, you’re the one that got me to tell you all the cheat codes to my heart. I told you I was raped in hopes that you’d have some self control and sense of humanity, that you’d stop.

That you’d stop.

That you would.

No really, you’re right though I gotta admit. You not being the all-star player and class president anymore and having to start all over in a new community is just as serious a issue as my being kidnapped away from my family and raped for two years. God, I’m really self-absorbed aren’t I?

I’m not good at communication at all. Did I tell you that? Yeah I’m working on it you’re right I really need therapy so I could be a better girlfriend for you. Oh my bad, side piece. How could I be so insolent?

It’s like when you buy groceries when you’re hungry and you pick up a bunch of snacks. Sooner or later you’ve spent a fortune but it didn’t feel that way at all. Over almost a year every conversation and look and reaction from you was slowing me down and making me just a little more doubtful and afraid and insane. The way I talked less and less to my friends and even blamed the ones who cared the most about me for being cruel to you, the ones who were trying to protect me. The way you said I needed therapy made me think, god forget it let’s not even think about that again. The other day I realized how depressed I had become. How much my lashing out was a natural response to your total humiliation of my spirit. You have one special talent of winning arguments without making sense. You just say things that are supposed to hurt and stop me from thinking logically? As if you had more experience than me. When I told you I was abused I wasn’t admitting to my weaknesses, I was showing off.

Well lucky you, I didn’t have boundaries. I guess I was the perfect target. I still don’t have boundaries huh?

Have a good time winning friends and influencing people. I know you’re gonna be A-okay.

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