I am writing this on your birthday. Although you'll probably never see it, I like to associate how terrible a person you are with some event in your life.
Despite it being over 5 years since you broke me, I was still searching for answers. Why. Why was *I* still giving you years and years of chances despite you being a complete hurtful, inconsiderate cunt towards me. I thought these questions would never be answered. Not to a satisfactory degree. Until I accidentally came across something.
Every once in a while I'll randomly stumble upon something by accident that makes me understand a little bit more. First by reading the definition of sociopath, and now this.
Most people would have gotten tired of your selfish actions long ago, but me? What drove me to stay? Was it just because of how much I loved you? What exactly transpired between us... it was too much. I cared more for you than anything else, and consequently it ruined me in so many ways... most of which you'll never know nor care to know about. You're living your care-free irresponsible life after all. no time to dwell on the past, or what you've done. Right?
I don't really spend much time on this anymore b/c quite honestly you are not worth wasting more of my life on. You've wasted a decade of my life already. A fucking decade. But hey, it wasn't your life, so who cares. For me, what I found might not be the final piece, but it was enough. And it makes perfect sense. Want to know what I am talking about? Lets see if you have the stomach to read it all
You know, it is astounding to me how much you live a life of denial. I wonder what your reaction would be If you ever manage to read all of it. Do you sit there and categorically shake your head in denial? Probably. Although I suspect you would never subject yourself to reading all of it b/c as we both know you dislike having the truth in your face. Almost incomprehensible to me how someone could lie so much to themselves as to remove themselves from all sense of accountability, but then many times over the years I forgot (or maybe I refused to believe) just exactly how warped you really were.
Do you even remember what you did to completely ruin all of this? One could argue you did enough back in 2001, but lets just go back to even a shorter span of almost 5 years ago. No, I doubt it. For you, things like that are just vague ghosts. How convenient. I doubt you remember asking me to tell you those bedtime stories before you went to sleep. I doubt you remember talking about where to go on our honeymoon, or all these trips that you wanted us to go on. How you wanted to kiss every inch of my body..
You have made me question every single thing. About myself, about people, and none in good ways.
I was always sincere in my words and actions. I think you used the term emotional masturbation, but for me it was sincerity. There is not a single word or action that I didn't 100% stand behind. But of course I've said that before, and nothing matters. It mattered to me, but I never mattered. So there we are.
I think back to something you once told me. something along the lines of how nobody knows all of you, about how you had many fragments. Back when I thought about it, I would imagine you as a kaleidoscope, or maybe stained glass. I also remember telling you I didn't want just parts of you, I wanted all of you...
How tragic that I didn't know at the time that all the bad fragments far outweighed the good. Maybe there were *some* parts of you that are good, but YOU, in your entirety are NOT a good person.
Deny and pretend and lie to yourself and others all you want. I know the truth. I *am* the truth of who you really are. I really have no idea why I am still alive today. From all the emotional hell you put me through, I should have ended it long ago. My 'existence' is in name only. I am a shell. I feel like some empty, hollow husk. You, flavia cordeiro, are a terrible person. you took something incredible and beautiful and turned it into what?
But back to the article above. Here is a secret that might surprise you. I can still remember what it felt like to love you. That for me is a curse I will be burdened with for the rest of my life. That addiction, or whatever the hell it was that is a result of that trauma bonding...
Or maybe it is better to say there is a *something* that never existed that I remember loving. Logically, rationally, I know this should not be. Whomever or whatever I loved, that I toiled through hardships, emotional hell, whomever that was for... really didn't exist. That flavia didn't really exist. Those memories, those feelings that I had, were real to me, but there was nothing real about you the person.
And yet sometimes, for brief moments I have this fantasy.
One day you will show up at the front door. Before I can slam the door in your face, you implore me to hear you out. I begrudgingly allow it although a thin string holds me back from ripping your goddamn throat out. In this fantasy you tell me you've changed. You tell me how you can't make up for any of what you did, but you apologize. You tell me what a huge mistake you made, and how it took this long to realize just what you ruined. In this fantasy you are there for one reason, you tell me you would do anything it took to repair the relationship.
For a moment I ponder this in my fantasy, and in this daydream I imagine you are actually telling me the truth for once and are actually sincere in all of these words. In this daydream you are *finally* the person I've always wanted you to be.
And then I laugh. I laugh at you and your pathetic attempt. Because it is too late. Because you've changed me. I am not longer the person that *I* was. And more importantly there is no way I would ever forgive all the lies, pain, anguish, deception and whoring you put me through. Throughout 10 years you systematically time and time again hurt and betrayed my trust.
Throughout those years I kept wishing and hoping you would turn around, be the person I thought you could be.. and every.single.time. you failed miserably.
"It’s in my nature" said the scorpion.
the survivor can come to find that it can be almost impossible to relate to anyone, even family or old friends, except superficially. There is a biological craving for intensity that no normal relationship will satisfy. This provides a feeling of being totally alone, and totally empty. At first, only going back to the primary aggressor can overcome it.
Trapped in a world of emptiness/perpetual desire. Sounds like me, doesn't it? No, you wouldn't know a damn thing about how that actually feels like, or what my life is like. But that is what it is. This also explains how/why I could keep coming back and giving you a decade of chances. You didn't deserve any of it, but I kept trying. How romantically pathetic. Meanwhile my life is a fucking empty, soulless, unmitigated nightmare because of this shit.
It would be normal in this state to believe that something is horribly wrong with leaving (even if it seems equally true that something is horribly wrong with staying.
That line is very poignant. To this day I still remember the dream I had about you. It was 2002, before I moved to Florida. I remember the dream was so intense, even asleep it felt my skin was on fire. And I had to subconsciously fight to push myself awake in order to escape. You were on fire, your entire body, so lit up there was no form to you, no physical body, just a pillar of fire. You made no sound, no cry, no indication you felt anything. Just 'there' on fire, but I did. I felt a lot. I held on to you, hugging the flame/you, the pain I felt was indescribable agony of being burnt alive, yet never dying.
Not in my life would I wish that pain on someone else. I wanted to let go so badly, and yet I knew if I had, then my body would turn to a pile of ash. So I held on, because I wanted to exist, I wanted to live, to *BE*. So I willed myself to keep going, to keep holding onto you. If I had let go, everything would end. You, me, the relationship. Everything. Ashes.
What a choice. I woke myself up before I could make a decision in the dream.
And then I did.
and we know the rest of the story.
Did I ever write about the drive back to Louisiana? After Carol told me you left the country, I didn't stay around in FL very long. I packed what meager belonging I had and started driving. Numb. Completely numb. I didn't think, I didn't do anything but drive. I was in an almost robotic state. After however many hours, I think around Jacksonville the dam burst. Going from numb to excruciating emotional/psychological grief like the flip of a switch.
The wave hit me and I could not hold it back. I wailed. It was like getting swept out to sea. I screamed and cried and bawled. I howled until my lungs were raw, and it kept going long after I had run out of tears. Have you ever cried so much that there were no more tears? I seriously doubt it.
your life, your dogs and smiling stupid lies of a life. Maybe it is better to be like you. better to manipulate and fuck people and fuck people over, to live an empty dissociative existence. At least you can pretend to have fun w/o consequence or responsibility for your actions. must be nice having no conscious. Oh wait, except for animals. meanwhile I carry the memories and scars. I carry the proof of the person that you really are.
