It was all a lie. The idea of a future, of rings and wedding toasts and kids and dogs, it was built on lies and false pretenses. He was never faithful, never honest, never showed me his true self. I thought he was so good because he meticulously hid the bad and ugly away, and used her as the outlet for his inner demons. I fell in love with a kind, intelligent, wonderful man who led me on with a false persona.
He fucked her and told me that he wasn't that sexual a person, he asked her for nude photos when I had to throw myself at him for affection. They lumped me in with those they mock, mistaking trusting and caring and loving too easily and fully for weakness.
What he doesn't recognize is the strength required to stay, to give second chances. I gave him that and his continued betrayal left me no choice but to sever ties, cut my losses, and rebuild.
Staying after the first discovery was harder and took more strength than I knew I was capable of. Leaving was the easier decision.
I've been insulted, betrayed, and underestimated in my persistence to love this man. I've given and given and even after ending our relationship tried to convince him to fight his demons head on, rather than allowing them free reign.
Despite contemplating the end for months, ever since the first discovery, the pain came suddenly, sheering my life clean of the imagined ideal of a future, like severing a limb, and catapulting me back into the present, unable to see more than a few weeks ahead. The abject terror of the unknown, unplottable future, with nothing to pin a dream on is the most unbearable part of it all. You'd think it would be the sense of loss, the hurt of losing a partner, best friend, lover, counterpart. Well, that part sucks too.
I feel lost, as though I'm in a foreign country with a different language, alphabet even, and me without a guide, no map, or gps to guide me back to the known path.
Plotting out the events of the next few months offers some comfort, but what then? I'll need to find an apartment, re-make my home...where?
Work suddenly seems both all-encompassing and pointless. Having a to do list, and the ability to feel accomplished is crucial, but the work itself is fruitless, devoid of meaning.
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