But fuck him for making me face it. Fuck him for forcing me to unearth all the tragic pieces of me. For taking more of me than I was willing to give. Hollowing me out with his words, and demand, and fucking love until there wasn’t one part of me he hadn’t touched in some way. Threading himself into each piece of me until I was desperately holding on to the last sliver that was still only mine. Fuck him for making me love him too. And fuck me for not fighting it harder. I brought this on myself, all of it. Even all the poison spewed today. And I hate myself for it.
