And I Still Love You

You treated me like I was less than human. You lied to me constantly. You told me millions of things about yourself while still hiding so much away. You kept me around like a crutch to be leaned on, a tool to be used, a blanket of reassurance.
 You told me I was wrong for suspecting this all along. You told me you were nothing but open and honest. You said I was crazy for thinking otherwise; and I believed you. Not just because I wanted to believe you, but because I have a history of mental illness.
 You knew this. You knew what a sensitive issue it was for me. You knew how much I trusted you and valued your opinion. You knew this and you turned it into a weapon. You made me doubt my own thoughts and emotions. You made me afraid. Of myself, and of unintentionally hurting you. You invalidated my thoughts and kept me around as a pet.

I gave everything I had to you. You were the center of my universe. Simply being next to you was more than I could ever hope for. I've never felt such contentment. love, or happiness before or since.

And when I ended it, you doubled down on your lies. Not even when the pin of reality came down, and popped the idyllic bubble I was living in, did you finally admit the truth. You just lied more. Manipulated more. Gaslighted more.

My world came crashing down around me and you told me it was all in my head. You made it sound like I could never deserve someone as amazing as you. That you kept me around out of pity. You started acting like being with me was an act of charity and you should be awarded for your saintly actions.

You told me I was insane. That I needed help. That you were worried about me. You made it sound so convincing. I wanted to believe you. I was ready to accept lunacy if that meant what we had was real. You almost had me believing you. After all, I must be insane if while I see you doing all of this to me, I still love you. In spite of the overwhelming evidence of your abuse and my need to leave, I still loved you. Can you understand the pain of pouring every bit of your love into someone, only to hear them respond that they've never felt so empty?

Years and years pass. I saw a therapist for a while. She assured me that I acted rationally, have not been a danger to anyone or myself.

I knew all that already.

Yet part of me still hoped I was crazy. I wanted it. At least then she could still be the girl I saw her as. Not the girl who moved on in less than a day, the emotional abuser, the compulsive liar, the serial cheater, the girl who destroyed my life...




I only wish that after all this time, and everything you've done, that I could just please stop loving you.