It has been exactly 4 years since I last wrote about you.
Looking back at these chapters of you, all I feel is pity. Pity for my younger self. Pity that I had thought I needed you in order to continue to live, to survive. I was unable to recognize the amount of emotional abuse you had inflicted on me. Looking back, I could not recognize myself. The way I isolated myself from my friends and family. The way I was reluctant to go anywhere without you. The way you played mind manipulation to control everything I do and who I saw.
All I feel is pity. Pity that those 4 years spent on you was 4 years I could no longer take back, I could no longer recall. I am convinced my mind has somehow blocked most of my memories of you. Friends and family members would retell stories of events that occurred during our time together but I could not recall those memories. Maybe it is due to the trauma of knowing the parts of the stories no one knew about. The aftermath.
YOU ARE READING
I Knew
Short StoryI knew; I knew he was no longer mine. I knew everything was falling apart. Yet, I refuse to believe it, and he refuses to let go. I knew it was toxic, but I still held on.
