I don’t expect you to understand the unfathomable feelings that graced me the day you left.
You left me convulsing while holding together an acceptable posture. I didn’t want the others around me drowning in my unexplainable emotions that I no longer knew how to tame. The scene was set for you long before you perpetrated the act of doing so. Your emotions had time to refrain and heal before you acted furiously in anger. I begged you to stay as you grabbed your things from my room. I did everything I could to get you to stay. I never thought I would have to beg the one I loved dearly to stay.
Rightfully so, all I wanted you to do was love me unconditionally. I thought that was little to ask after all the times I spent repairing your deranged emotions—fluctuating daily.
Let me explain the scene in a way you understand.
The blood was on your hands. I felt as if you had just carried out a horrific murder and yet still had the indecency to turn around and wipe the blood on me. After all I did for you. I was there through all the incomprehensible moments. You expected me to understand in a way I didn’t know how. Yet, all I did was try to love you through all your flaws and misery. My wounds from previous occasions were left pulsating and in open sight. They were in plain sight—because I didn’t expect you to pour salt in them while I wilted in agony. You gained off me. You took advantage of a vulnerable girl who wanted to see your glorious soul shine once again. I didn’t think you would kill me in the process of doing so. You said the gun was mine.
You didn’t thank me for a single thing I did for you the day you left.
Instead, you turned it all back onto me. The jury was present, and you weren’t going down without a fight. You were the one that left me. You were the one who cheated me. The blood was surrounding you, yet you made it look as if I turned you into a mad man. You brought up any of my dirt to make it look like I was the crazy one. Truthfully, you turned me into a monster. For a while, I believed you when you said it was all my fault. It was just your secret mechanism found within this horrific game you play with your victims. You would do anything in your power to make it look like the murder wasn’t your fault.
I should’ve ran for the hills when I saw you do this to me the first time. I loved you through thick and thin. That’s just the women that I am. Turns out, I had a lesser man who couldn’t commit to me. You couldn’t accentuate the same powerful love even if you tried. The love flowing from you, was none other but the love you provided to yourself as nourishment.
You took everything I had. The truth is, I was willing to give you it until there was nothing left.
But honey, the murder victim was me. You killed every ounce of who I was before I could save myself. You didn’t care about anybody else but yourself. You still had the audacity to see me destroyed on the ground and say it was all my fault. That I deserved it. You said the gun was mine. Yet, I was the one dead on the ground.