I woke up this morning after having a dream about you. I tried to fall back asleep, but it put me in a slump that lingered throughout the day. In the dream we were back at college, but you were with your new boyfriend and all the other people who I thought were friends. People who were first my friends, then yours, but who are now more involved in your life then they are in mine. I was standing there, trying to pack, obviously to leave, and you were humiliating me, tearing me down. The whole time I was speechless, just watching the spectacle from outside of my body.
I usually try to avoid thinking about you, but then there are days like today. I wonder what you’re up to, what you’re talking about to all the people who used to talk to me, how it feels curled up in his bed. Nobody tells me anything anymore.
In a way I prefer that.
I didn’t call to tell you about my new life, my new job, my new place, my new friends. I didn’t call because you have no right. You have no right to be apart of my life in any shape or form.
On the rare occasions you do cross my mind, I often wonder what I would say to you if I ever saw you again. I imagine all the things I could say, but I know it would simply be “Hi, how’re you?”
Not because I genuinely care, but because that is all I would manage given the overload of contiguous thoughts and emotions simultaneously fighting to get out. I hate you with every fiber of my being. But then again I don’t. It’s almost been a year and I take solace in the fact that of all the emotions I feel towards you, love is not among them.
The hardest thing by far has been trying to figure out what happened. In the confusion I know I’ve settled on some oversimplifications, possibly out-write fabrications that conveniently fill in the blanks left by my memory. I feel like it is unfair for me to hate you for the motives I’ve made up.
For the longest time I’ve been struggling to put my finger on exactly what it was that kept me from completely recovering.
I think I’ve narrowed it down. One word keeps popping up:
It’s not the kind of betrayal that’s physical, but rather a deeper emotional betrayal.
I feel betrayed by your infatuation with another man for the last half a year of our relationship. I feel betrayed by how I was the nicest, sweetest, most devoted guy in the world to you and you were an abusive bitch; one who would stomp all over me just to make a point. I feel betrayed by the fact that you never told me to my face what you really thought of me.
It’s this betrayal that makes me feel a sick, heavy, nauseating poison pumping through my veins whenever I think of you.
The question I keep asking myself is will I ever be able to forgive you.