Weakness

A moment of weakness. Just one, can send you spiraling into the depth of darkness. You feel the darkness crash onto your shoulders, forcing you deeper into the hole, suffocating you and squeezing you through the narrow tunnel. As much as you try to use your feeble hands to claw onto something, anything, and resist, your thoughts pour in and drown you even further.

Just when you thought you’ve taken one step forward, something unexpected pushes you two steps back. You stagger back with eyes wide open. Disbelief washes over you, and you ask yourself ‘what is wrong with me?’

Why am I not good enough? Why do the people you give your heart to always end up lying to you? How can someone who promised you this and that just throw his words out the window? Has he forgotten? Has he wiped you out of his memories? Has he forgotten the pain he caused? Or was he always oblivious? Or simply, he didn’t care? But why would he make empty promises? Is that what everybody does nowadays? Empty promises? Is that the trend? Why would he do this? Why? Does he not have a heart? Is he a sadist? Does he aim to hurt me? To get back at me? To break me? To tear me to pieces and crumple me up with his bare hands into a pathetic ball? To throw me on the floor and stomp on me endlessly with the heel of his foot? To open me up, smooth me out, only to trick me and shred me on a grater? To spill my blood, mop it up, and slice open the wound again? To hang me out to dry on a meat hook? Is that what I am to him?

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You know you should not be back in this position again. You have moved on. You are past this. You are. But just one moment of weakness, and the doors to hell are unleashed.

What can you do? Lie in bed and wallow in your thoughts? Picture that image over and over again in your head? Look back at the time when those words came out of his mouth, but realized they were all complete and utter lies? Constantly question your self-worth, your sanity, your place in the world? Will you ever be good enough? When will you be worth it? You look up at the vast sky. At the same sky that 7 billion people are sharing. You become desperate. When? When will it stop? This weakness that you can’t control? This trigger that will never go away? When will you stop feeling like you have been a puppet, a play-doh, molded for him to use? When will you stop questioning yourself? When will you stop giving him the satisfaction of constantly being in your head? When will the unanswered questions be answered? When will you stop caring? When can you feel that freedom again? Not weighed down by the past? When can you look forward again, without ever looking back?

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