The Loser
"Fucktard," he shouted.
My world stopped.
I stared blankly ahead.
No one I loved this much would ever hurt me, I thought. Love was enough, I thought. To help heal his past trauma, just love. But no. Every insecurity, every pain I had was heightened by that one word—"Fucktard."
A basic promise—of never name-calling me again, of regretting his actions the first time—was broken. And with that, my trust.
Never again will I believe in "love conquers all." All love ever did for me was hurt.
How could I expect him to be different?
He proved that he lacks respect for me. Why? Because I'm unconditionally and irrevocably in love with someone who has put his ex on a pedestal.
"Does it feel good, babe? Name-calling me when I'm fighting with you about name-calling me, when you never did it to your abusive ex? Even when she hit you and slapped you? When you never name-called her, and then you tell me I'm the one—why would I ever believe you?"
His response just made things worse.
He said he had changed as a person. That he name-calls his parents and that doesn't mean a lack of love or respect. That he has changed as a person, which is why he has now name-called me on three different occasions.
Why does this sound like a cycle of abuse?
Why do I get to be treated the worst of the lot?
Why do I even love someone who cannot respect me at all?
He said that he was scared of me every day, whereas he was only scared of his ex when she abused him.
The pain.
It's over in my head. I'm not loved as much, and I never will be. And it's stupid to expect anything more.
"So you couldn't verbally abuse your ex back when you were dating her because you loved her so much, not because you've changed as a person. You can't change into an abusive partner if you love the person you're with. I'm just a second choice."
I thought.
So I switched off.
I can't again.
I can't be friends with him. I don't like him anymore. But I can't help that I love him.
So I stay.
I stay for unrequited love.
I stay to be hurt over and over again.
I stay because I am a fucktard.
I guess he's been right all along.
The King
"Fucktard," I shouted.
Hate was consuming me.
What are these tears and this weakness? This insecurity about an ex?
Haven't I told her a million times that she's the one?
But no. She catches on to me name-calling her and me liking my ex's photos seven years after breaking up with her.
She is just being toxic at this point.
She is driving me insane.
My ex never did that.
She might have abused me physically and name-called me, but she never drove me insane like this bitch does.
A basic promise of her trying to get over her insecurities was broken multiple times.
What does she expect?
She is a fucking asshole. A useless piece of shit.
"Does it feel good, babe? Name-calling me when I'm fighting with you about name-calling me, when you never did it to your abusive ex? Even when she hit you and slapped you? When you never name-called her, and then you tell me I'm the one—why would I ever believe you?"
Because, you bitch, I have fucking changed.
I swear at my parents.
I can swear at my family because I have changed.
And if she is my family, she should take it and believe that she is the one.
She has a reason for everything.
My actions, she keeps saying.
What actions?
I've removed all of them from my life.
What more could she possibly want?
She questions my integrity just because I name-called her and never did my ex?
Just because I said I am scared of her every day?
Because I am.
She cries.
At least my ex just verbally abused me. This one cries and makes a fuss and brings my whole world down.
Maybe I do keep my ex on a pedestal.
So I switch off.
I don't want to marry this girl anymore.
But I stay.
I stay for the love she gives me.
I stay despite proving to her that I loved my ex more. I stay because she's married to someone else.
I stay because I am a fucktard.
I guess she's not the only one.
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