Why? Why, why, why do I torture myself? How do I forget and attempt to have any genuine communication with this person whose mouth is dripping with lies? That is, the rare moments when they bother to speak to me.
The manipulation just doesn’t end. Not one day.
I had spent years feeling as if I was trapped in the bottom of a well. Clawing, and getting nowhere. Watching the sun and moon pass over me, taunting me. Waiting for a glimmer of an escape.
It’s oh so dramatic and miserable but the pain, the pain was so real.
I’m so glad in this moment that I don’t feel anymore. Too bad though that I also am incapable to feel any sense of relief. At least I am aware none of this actually matters. That this tiny dust speck of a planet we inhabit, and our even smaller lives, realistically have very little value beyond what we assign it with our massive egos. It comforts the last existing logical parts of my brain, not emotionally of course, but still, it is something.