Status Quo

So. I just binged Season 2 of HBO's Barry. Episode four made me vomit draft this and I don't care if its spell checked or if I still feel like it's true tomorrow. I'm publishing it.

She was an abusive friendship.
She constantly made me feel sorry for her.
She constantly made me worry for her.
She was never really able to fully commit to me, but could also never really end it.
She never said that she had feelings for me, but she never was able to say that she didn't either.
She used me for all the support I could provide and the moment it got complicated she dropped me.

And I was the one who keeps suffering. Who still wants to go back to her. Who cries himself to sleep at night. And I was always afraid I was going to hurt her. Always scared I would say something wrong. Trigger some trauma. Make things worse for her. I was always just thinking about her wellbeing, never mine. And so I ended up never defending myself.

And the few times I did she always reacted annoyed and overly aggressive. In the six months we ended up dating, I only found the courage to speak up like twice, I think. And not once did she apologize for something I accused her of.

And what did I do after she ended it and I sort of ran with it because I was hurt by her words and horribly overworked and stressed out and couldn't think straight? After three months I fucking sent her a letter telling her that I miss her and that everything is my fault.

And only the instinctive reaction of my body stops me from becoming friends with her again after she read the letter and writes to me on instagram.

I fucking trembled!
Not out of happiness.
But of fear and panic.

I think I didn't fully understood it at the time, but I was scared of having contact with her. She had become the personification of panic and pain and yet I was still convinced that I wanted her. Heck! If I'd randomly meet her drunk in the streets tomorrow I would absolutely still spend a night with her.
Actually.
Maybe I'm finally at a point where I wouldn't.

Still.
Fuck you.
Fuck you for being so difficult. Fuck you for giving me the most traumatizing first half-relationship I'll ever have. God I have learned so much from you. And I wish I never had. But I did. And I won't make those mistakes ever again. But it will take me years to fully process what you fucking did to me. I wish I could hate you for it. Instead I just want you and your kid to be happy. And never fucking see you again.


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