On my way to our comfort store, either go through your Treptower Park or the park of one of your girls, ugh.
It must be easy to let me go when you have two prospects waiting for you, one completely new, the other halfway through. The butterflies must be going crazy inside you, the passion you contain can be spread into someone who will be able to receive it better than I did.
I'm going to remind myself that Ikea is mine, have a tea and cake, it's my comforting place, not ours. I'm going to reconnect with myself again and let go of the memories we made together, forge new ones alone, because I can't remember you without the knife pushing back inside, without that night at Treptower Park, without Victoria and your new drum&base lass, without your lies.
I'm in so much pain, I'm just trying to stay present with and for myself. I feel contaminated and I just want to lie down and cry until I heal.
I'm so angry, disappointed. Triggered. I wish I had never met you, that's in how much pain I am. I would rather never have had the good, only to never have felt this way again. The feeling of my life, always there.
You made me believe you could be "the one" (or become the perfect partner) even after I managed to stop believing in that, you brought that idea back into my life and I fell for it, while the other half of me knew it was impossible and dumb, protecting me from letting go of that which was concrete and helpful.
I am so hurt, and I imagine you making fun of what you read here, as you did many times of what I said or how I said it when we fought, dramatic bitch I am, or maybe it's that this is not my first language, it hurts no matter what the reason was.
At least I am starting to hate you, that's the next stage of grief, isn't it?
