The first day I saw her tears it broke my heart. I watched her facial features crumble into sadness, her lips close and her eye tear up, then the tear dropped from her eye, then the other one. Her lips quivered and the tears flowed freely. I watched the woman I loved with everything in me cry because of my words and actions.
I saw my heart break in 4K and all I could do was watch it. I tried to hold her, but she held her hand out stopping me. She’s never recoiled from my touch before, until today. My heart broke a little more. Then she walked away. That was the first night I slept alone since we got together. She was nice enough to text me but she’s fine but she needs some time to herself.
I didn’t know it then but that might have been the first time I hurt her but it would be the first of many more.
She came back the next night and we talked. I apologized profusely and promised to do better. I tried to hold her and she let me. My heart returned home. Forgiveness restored our love but at some point, it ruined it. That night we slept in each other’s arms, promising to do better and continue to love each other.
Words of love were spoken. I told her I love her and she said she loves me too. I told her I’d never hurt her again. I told her I’d never known heartbreak like when I saw those tears leave her eyes. I told her I love her even more that day cause I knew hurting her would hurt me. I promise to do and be better.
Every single pretty word I said that day was a lie. I didn’t know it at the time but now I do.
Maybe the first forgiveness wasn’t the problem, maybe it was the second, or third or fourth one. Maybe the thought of no consequences made me irrational. Maybe I got used to the fact that she’d always forgive me. Maybe I knew she’d still love me no matter what I did. Maybe I took advantage of her love for me. Maybe I didn’t realize I was doing it till it was too late.
After the first time I hurt her, I kept my promise. I did better, I became better. Our love flourished we were happy. For some reason I started to become unsatisfied with the peace at home. I wanted something but I couldn’t understand what it was.
What was missing? Why wasn’t I happy anymore? Or rather why was I as happy as I used to be? What happened? How could I fix it?
Then something happened. I forgot something special to her. I usually wouldn’t but things happened and I forgot. I came home and I saw the sadness in her eyes, I apologized and she forgive me. I was happy, sort of.
Later that night I lay awake as she slept in my arms. A scary realization coming to my mind. I didn’t feel hurt by what I just did. Initially I was but it didn’t last long. I decided to do something different the next day, and the day after that. I didn’t text her as much, didn’t call her as much, forgot little things here and there. She forgave me each time.
Then one day she sat me down and said we needed to talk. She listed at everything I had done and asked what was wrong and why I did the things I did. She asked if I didn’t love her anymore and if she did something to offend me. And I began to lie. I lied that everything was fine with me. I lied that work was becoming stressful and I felt suffocated. I lied that I didn’t realize I was doing all these things. I lied that I would do better. I lied that I wouldn’t do it anymore.
The conversation ended in her understanding and consoling me. We hugged it out forgiveness reigned. I thought I had gotten away with it. I thought the things I was doing would fill up the missing feeling inside me. It did, temporarily but that faded away so I moved from small things to bigger things.
From forgetting good morning texts to not texting at all. From not calling her at all to not answer her calls either. From forgetting to pick up something at the grocery store to neglecting my responsibilities at home. From not remembering an event to not remembering birthdays, anniversaries and important days. I became worse every day.
She would complain, she would cry, she would question while I would deflect and gaslight her into believing she was overreacting, blame her for being too much and not understanding I was busy. I would break her piece by piece, for every piece I broke this feeling in me grew. Yet she forgave me. Then I wondered how much more I could do and get away with. I’d never cheat on her, I loved her too much for that and that’s not the kind of person I am.
I let the feeling consume me. So I neglected her, ignored her and still blamed her for it. I made her believe everything I did was her fault and if she was more understanding, more patient, more loving, more caring, just more, then maybe I’d be better. I kept feeding that feeling not realizing that the feeling would never be satisfied.
I notice how docile she became, how less she brought up things. I notice how sadness was a constant look in her eyes. I notice how she tried to do better for me, surprise dates, special gifts and dinners, trying to be more sexy in the bedroom, hoping I’d go back to who I was. She really tried to keep the spark alive and be what she thought I wanted. If that was the actual issue I actually have been grateful and appreciative.
But that wasn’t the issue. The feeling in me was satisfied and that meant so was I. So every single one of her efforts to fix us, I destroyed. I didn’t come, didn’t eat, didn’t appreciate. I told her I was tired and walked out. I told her to stop. I complained about everything and belittled everything she did.
I hurt the woman I claim to love and I did it consciously, forgetting she has feelings too, and everyone has their breaking point. Then I came home and she wasn’t there. I didn’t think anything of it until I went to the bedroom and it felt hallow.
I looked around I started to notice things. Her things were missing, then my heart race doubled. I started checking everywhere and everywhere I looked nothing of hers was left. I didn’t see it before but there was a note on my bedside table.
‘I’m done’
Those were the only words she left me with. No argument, complaints, begging, pleading, or crying. Nothing at all. I fell to my knees in shock. That feeling I’ve been trying to fill within was nowhere in sight. All I felt was my world crumbling before me and the only person to blame is me.
I did everything to myself, with my own hands, unprovoked. It was then I started to notice how quiet she’d been recently. The sadness no longer in her eyes, more so indifference. She was so silent. I didn’t notice until now, she had left me before physically leaving me.
The worst part is that I have no one to blame but myself. All the pretty words I said mocked me now. All the lies I told laughed in my face. I don’t know why I did it. I hurt her so much. I now realize how much I loved her, but it was too late and it’s all my fault.
She tried to keep us but I had already decided to ruin us.
I have lost the woman I love and I did it consciously.
She once asked me what I wanted. I said some dumb shit then, but even then I didn’t know. Couldn’t tell her I wanted to hurt her even if some part of me didn’t want to. Couldn’t tell her about this new feeling of lack. I think I want her back now what’s the guarantee I won’t get that feeling and hurt her again. I guess I need to first fix whatever is wrong with me. I wonder what would have happened if she stopped forgiving me sooner. Would I have done better? Or would I have doubled down on my bad behaviour. I also wonder what would have happened if I had spoken to her about how I was feeling. Maybe we would have worked it out together.
Too late for those thoughts now, the damage is done and I now have to live with the consequences of my actions because I wonder now it she hadn’t left, would I ever had stopped?