Love

He looked down at the floor. I could see it in his pitiful eyes, heart racing, palms sweating. For once he confessed to a lie. The one lie that ruins most relationships. Barely able to get the words out, he squeaked “Yes.” To my hurt but blunt question: “Did you cheat on me with your ex?” I never thought I would ask that question. But here we were 4 AM after watching his world crumble before him. We sat in my poorly lit, desolate room deciding our fate. I knew he felt sorry because he was caught not because he loved me enough to tell me. He had gone into detail explaining that the day he committed this sin I was waiting for him at his house in his compact twin-sized bed. Clueless to the fact he had posted snapchats in this girls room and even answered a call from me trying to be cool and collected covering up his dirty deed. The truth still didn’t hit me. I was so shocked that my first love could betray me. But I sat there and calmly listened to his story, not because I wanted to but because I really truly was in love with him. Being someone with manic depression, I thought I would be able to handle the stress of this decision to break up with him and be on my own. But of course he kept calling persistently to win back his prize...and of course I answered yearning to see and touch the only man I ever wanted. That one act ruined me. Correction, crippled my once so big heart. I had never felt so much love, spite, and hate for someone all at once. So you know what I did? I cheated...I know revenge sex is the tackiest way to get back at him, but in that moment I thought it was right because he would finally feel the hurt that I felt. For a moment I had won the game, but there was never a winner for long. Both immaturely trying to love each other and get in our game of tit for tat, months had went by and I no longer could take the stress of lurking and watching his every move so closely. I truly lost my mind; some would say I was the psychopath in this situation. Nights of endlessly wondering what he was doing? Who was he with? And who was he texting? One day I finally caught him AGAIN. He sent a message out of spite to a girl saying how beautiful she was and how he wanted to get to know her. When the girl looked like a chicken with all the feathers taken off. I was enraged when I saw these messages in his Facebook Messenger. My one fear had come back to bite me. I remember being so pissed that I had to talk myself out of literally stabbing him, but the one thing I would do is take this dumb tablet he had given me and smash it to little pieces, detonate his clothes with the very knife I thought about piercing him with, and tossing these worthless items out of my front door. Thinking that this metaphorical fuck you would appease the situation somehow. I called him up and I could hear it in his voice; he knew why I called and confessed to trying to get me angry for constantly accusing him of cheating. I was speechless, and at this point my blood was boiling! I told him we were done and to come and get his shit and to never speak to me again (which we both knew was a lie.) He said he was on his way and when he came, our worlds had changed forever...