You never loved me. You only loved what I could give you. And so I gave… my time, my career, my money, my friends, my name… the last drip-drop of my sanity. I gave till I had one thing left, and I gladly gave you that.

I… I never loved you. I loved the idea of you, the one that would one day see me for me and love me tainted and all. I loved the idea that I projected onto you, the one that bore me my son and daughters and built me a home for a life, this life.

We were wedded in purgatory, a pair denied entry to both Heaven and Hell.

Give me something… hate, a paper cut, anything.

Instead, nothing but stone-mother-cold-silence, breeding the shadows and boarders of my now-dark night, breaching the cracks of my suppressed menstrual and mental cycles.

Walking shells we’ve become, with fancy clothes, florid smells, and smiles for exteriors, drowning time and faking gratitude.

But who am I to complain, for past the straight and narrow, the windy and wide. I have known to the depth of me that we were wrong for one another, yet I remained and bred this monster that is us. Knowingly fed and mothered that demented fuck, and for that I am truly sorry.



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