I know the way you feel. I know you’ve spent countless days just trying to quiet your mind, endless nights awake staring at the ceiling, wondering how, wondering why. I know you’ve beat yourself up, replaying moments over and over, questioning whether you were the one to blame. I know you’ve reached for your phone, dialed the number, and then hung up, afraid even to hear the sound of your own voice.
I know you’ve spent so long just trying to build yourself back, to erase the memory of the two of you, arm in arm. I know you’ve ached over the last image you have of him—his car headlights fading in the distance and you standing there, tears making a lump in your throat.
I know you’re broken, but I don’t know the whys, the hows, the answers. I don’t know whether you were innocent, or played a major role in what happened. I don’t know if you tried to fight back, or reluctantly watched as he made his exit from your heart. I don’t know how you’ve healed thus far, or if you’ve even been able to let go at all.
But I know that not every man will break you like the last one did. Continue reading