You used to clean up nicely. Later, I would be lucky if the t-shirt you threw on wasn’t slept on by a cat.

I hated when you would call me “baby” or “sweetheart.” It always seemed like such a default.

When I realized I was late calling you, I’d start agonizing over what you would say to me this time.

There are times I want to kick myself in the ass for ever getting lonely enough to talk to you that first night.

I tried to love you. I really did.

There just wasn’t anything there.

When I realized that I didn’t have any photos of the two of us together, relief was the resounding feeling.

I expected everyone to say “I told you so.” They didn’t. But they did listen. Endlessly. Thank you.

Every fight, I was waiting, wondering when that first punch was going to be.

Wondering if the punch would ever come was worse than if you would have just gone ahead and hit me.

I cowed down to you for reasons that I haven’t been able to figure out yet.

I stood up to you for reasons I never should have lost in the first place.

Late night, injured, hysterical, drunk phone calls? No.

Stalking my every move that you can find? No.

Just because I left before your fist finally got sick of hitting everything/everyone else, doesn’t mean it wasn’t abuse.

You made me ask for money that you offered me. Promised me. Money that I did not ask for. That I did not want. That I would not have needed if not for you.

Looking back now, a tent on the corner of the street would have been preferable.

You took my friends.

You took my ideas.

You tried to take my identity.

Lucky for me, I’m a stubborn bitch.

You said things, did things, made up things (and continue to do so) that I refuse to waste any more thought or time on.

I walked away from them.

I walked away from you.

With a limp and a smile.

The only time you’re happy is when you’re the superior in the relationship. When you can make the other person feel inadequate.

Regardless of what you think, there was/is absolutely nothing I want to learn from you.

It’s taken me close to a year to get even marginally back to the person I was before I got tangled up in the mess that is you.

I finally see what I’m capable of.

That thread between us? The one and only thing we share? I’m making it my life’s goal that she is never made to feel like or to think that she is nothing. Minuscule. Worthless if not by someone’s side, obedient like a pet.

She will be better than you.

Better than me.

I am making sure that she will never be in the position that I was in with you.

Ever.