It Wasn't Love...

It wasn't love, it was loss. He took his time to understand who I was. He rummaged through every vulnerable piece of me. The man I thought I loved to what was going to be forever took my heart and shattered it into a million pieces. He had me wrapped around his finger until he found my weaknesses and used it against me. The most softest parts of me, I shared with someone I thought I could trust—yet he showed me exactly why even our own shadows leave us when we're in darkness. He wasn't your average guy. He was a man made up of doubt, negativity, and confusion. At one point, it reminded me of who I used to be, long ago. Only difference was, I managed to find my flaws and repair myself...

... He couldn't. He was in denial about his own flaws. Abusive was his middle name. His sweet, shiny eyes would've convinced you otherwise. But the loudness in his words spoke... oh, they spoke. And every day I'd walk with a huge cloud above my head... "When will I ever be enough to someone who sees so little?" my mind spoke. Just because he didn't lay a finger on me didn't mean it wasn't abuse. "Bitch." "You piece of shit." "I hope you die." "You're a low life whore." "You're garbage to me." "You're ugly." These words linger. They come and go. They give me days of doubt. Some days they give me a sense of strength. The only person that can convince me otherwise of such awful words is myself. It is so hard. To anyone reading this, just know there may be a light in the end of the rough tunnel you had to seek your way out of. It hurts. Some days are extremely rough. Other days you begin to grow a sense of apathy...

Overall, anxiety is real. PTSD is real. Trauma is real. Mental health, REAL. These scars haven't left me yet. I don't think they will in such a short period of time. But I'm confident that I will be happy again as I once was before. I'm confident that I will find the light that drives me sane. I'm confident that I will adore myself, and love myself, and give myself credit even when I've done just a little to get there. I'm confident that I will find the happy spirits that once sought the loudness of smiles rather than the loudness of my tears. And I'm confident that if I had the chance to turn away from an abuser, that I can face endearment... warmth...

Not the love that turns into loss. But the love that never wanders. The love that never betrays you, the love that never delays you, the love that doesn't demand from you, the love that doesn't harm you. Rather the love that will follow with a rainbow shortly after the storm. A love that will never ever leave you, a love that will never allow your tears to run until there's nothing left to express. Just a love that merely fits you like the glove that was made for you. Like the ring that was set for you. Like the moment that was pre-arranged for you. It wasn't love, it was loss. Love? Love is promising, and it will sure come my way, someday.