I don’t know my own feelings anymore. I thought I couldn’t trust them. They were telling me to run but I ignored them. I mean why should I run? You’ve been nothing but gracious and perfect. You’ve been supportive and kind. You’ve been mine. Why run?

But they kept screaming at me to go; to leave to hide from you. But why should they? You’ve been there this whole time. Helping me, guiding me, supporting me.

They told me to let go, but why would I?  You said you loved me. You said you wanted me. You said you needed me. Why let go?

But they were right.

They are always right. They saw you, the real you. The you my soul recognized… You know I dreamed of you… I dreamed of us…

I dreamed we were together in a small quaint flat hosting a dinner party. I saw us with friends and coworkers enjoying laughing and playing games. Until people began to turn on me; to make jokes at my expense. So, I walked away. But you… You stayed to laugh and make jokes while I hid in the kitchen cooking. The jokes kept coming and you kept laughing. So, I cleaned, I hate cleaning.

All of the sudden, you were all playing spin the bottle and there I was holding dishes watching as you kissed someone else. You both looked at me. Because I’m the joke here. I’m the punch line. I dropped the dishes.


Then three paths illuminate in the darkness. In path one I am in the kitchen of grand house with two beautiful children running towards me. They grab my legs and ask “mommy, why don’t you trust daddy.” I look up and there you are; disheveled, beaten, and exhausted. I drop to the ground to hug our beautiful babies and cry. Because I just can’t trust you.

Without warning I’m watching path two. I’m in a tub filled with bloody water. I guess I just couldn’t fake it anymore. At my funeral you kiss my forehead in front of everyone and declare your undying love for me. For years on you visit my grave to tell me about your life. The one I’m not in.

Now your sitting on a couch with a huge beer gut. There’s a petite woman. Definitely your “type” brings you more beer as you watch tv. And there I am on the screen, this must be path three. I’m accepting an award. You’re pissed you keep saying how you should be up there. You throw a bottle at the tv.


I come back; back to the place I just left. Back to the world where you would kiss someone else in front of me. I must have fainted because you were next to me. You were holding my hand and stroking my hair. You looked so worried. Apparently, you don’t want to lose me just hurt me. I cling to you and cry because I know what my dream means. It means I should just trust you. And we can have those two beautiful children. That if I ignore my feelings then we will be happy. That’s what I decide it means. And I wake up.


So, I trust you. I let go of all the emotions that have been keeping me safe and dive into the deep end of your love. I let it wash over me, and we swim together so happy, at least for a time. But my dream was reality not yet realized. You don’t want me. You just want to own me. So, you pull away while I pull harder grasping for anything clinging and clawing. You pull away faster. Till I’m alone, drench, and cold. Then you tell me that I need to get up and dry off. That you get to decide how we work and you’ve decided not to love me anymore. You’re in charge. And I just sit there in my anger, In my pain, In the cold. With clarity for the first time since I saw you.

You don’t love me.

Why did I trust you?