It’s Not Me, It’s You

I don’t know you. I’m not sure that I ever did. I know a fictional character you made up for me, but he’s gone now, the memories I have of him tarnished by the person you really are. In these moments I try to reflect on happiness, but he’s draped in narcissism with shimmering hints of insecurity against the cold black of your ego, his soothing voice replaced with your shrieks of my inadequacy. He reeks of your emotional abuse and codependency. His eyes, those eyes; once a forest I could easily wander in for hours reduced to nothing more than dismal pools, swirling all the time and passion I wish I could take back for myself. It’s almost as though I can see the pieces of myself I’ve given up trapped in the depths never to return.

I wish I could erase myself. Usually people would wish the opposite. I want to wear your scars like accessories forever. I want the reminder to never fall for illusions again. No, I want to erase myself from your memories. You didn’t earn my love. You didn’t deserve my self-sacrifice for love you knew would never truly be reciprocated. Did you ever actually love me at all? I destroyed myself for you. Now not only do I not know you, but who am I?

My love wasn’t made for your fiction. Your character cracked mid plot line. He didn’t fit the hero anymore, shattering the illusion like a windshield on impact, your true personality bubbling to the surface more and more waiting to erupt pain and confusion on our life together. It was inevitable, but I was blind, despite the pleads of my friends. “It’ll be different!” I’ll exclaim. It wasn’t, any attempt to repair the illusion futile.

Who was I crawling in bed with? Who was I making love to? Who am I raising a family with? I. Don’t. Know. You. Our time together gets darker. My home is a prison. Your harsh words get more and more frequent under your suffocating attempts to put me back under that spell. I’ll just drink more to drown you out. Who are we?

I wish I could take it back. No, not my scapegoat. I wish I could take back the devotion I gave you. I wish I hadn’t tried to build an empire with Brutus. I wish I could have done anything to hold on to that character you made for me. I wish I could have fixed you. I didn’t want this. I was not built to save you and it was unfair of you to punish me for it.

Pieces perfectly chosen from the both of us designed the most beautiful little reminder. Somewhere you have purity lurking behind your hate and cowardice. A reminder that once there were moments I didn’t question our future together. He bear the weight of your punishments the most. His existence is still not enough to awaken the compassion in you. Another man stepping in to fill the roles you actively neglect. I promise he’ll know himself. I swear he’ll grow older knowing it’s not his fault.

It’s been a few months now that you’ve been gone and it hasn’t gotten much easier. You still haunt me just like you wanted to and I still let you hurt me while I’m alone in the dark. However, don’t mistake my vulnerability now for weakness. You did not break me. Your wounds are deep, but not fatal because it’s not me, it’s you. It was always you and there’s no doubt in my mind about that now.