Hurricane

What do you do when your girlfriend cheats on you with your best friend?

Most people would not say to be happy for them. Many people are not me.

No, many people would get angry. Many people would snap and lash out and push them away.

I’m not many people.

I talk. I communicate. I tell them I’m hurt but I’m willing to work through things.

We work. We talk.

Others don’t.

Others start getting upset, cruel words shooting like poison arrows, condemning them, condemning me.

Because how dare I forgive? How dare I value my relationships?

We have to leave our friends behind.

They don’t understand, they don’t listen. They scowl and point fingers and act petty and immature and hypocritical, telling us to grow up and communicate and stop keeping secrets while refusing to communicate themselves.

They call me an enabler. They glare and whisper and shout, hissing and spitting venom like snakes and spiders, tearing down my already fragile self.

The knife beside my bed taunts me. It’s there for protection, for defense. Does this count as defense? Maybe it does.

I don’t do it. Tempted as I may be, my skin stays unbroken, though my heart does not. Tears flow freely and I shout and rage and cry. Oh God, do I cry.

It’s not fair. It was never fair. Nothing about this is fair.

I’m losing people, people I cared about, people I thought were my friends. My partner tries to support me. I don’t want her support. I don’t want friends anymore, not friends like this.

I don’t want friends that hurt me. I don’t want friends that tell me how to feel. I don’t want friends that aren’t willing to listen.

I don’t want to not trust anyone. I thought I could trust my friends. I thought I could trust him. I thought I could trust her.

So here I am, back to trying to be fiercely independent. I’m back to trying not to rely on anyone but myself. After all, I’m the only one I can trust.

Relationships only hurt. I’ve always known this to be true. Time and time again, they all prove me right.

I’m tired of being right. I’m tired of losing people over things that aren’t my fault. I’m tired of being swept up in this storm of emotions and backstabbing and betrayal. I’m tired of doing everything myself.

But I can’t be out of control. Not like this. Not again. I need to be safe, even if that means trusting no one.

Never again. Never again am I going to be helpless. I’m stuck here clinging to anything I can control, anything I can fix. I ignore my pain and focus on fixing the pain of others. It’s easier that way. It’s easier to be numb.

Numbness hurts too. But no one needs to know that. No one needs to know how my heart is broken by the man I called my brother, by the only woman I ever trusted with my body and heart. Those thoughts, those feelings don’t matter.

I don’t matter.

I’m a prop, something to be tossed around and used and stepped on, thrown away when the show is done. I’ve been treated like one for years, by friends, by family, but only now do I really feel it. Now I feel empty, hollow as I never have before. I am a shell of a human being, wind whistling in one ear and out the other, a doll to be posed and used as others see fit.

I’m tired of it.

But I’m tired of caring.

I’m sick of fighting, of facing each day with a smile I can’t feel, of trying to be an optimist only to be let down again and again. I want to give up. I want to run away where no one will find me. I want to jump onto a ship and cross the ocean, learn a new language, start a new life.

I want to reset.

I want to start over.

I want out.

But I don’t want to let go. I want a life with them, with my girlfriend and my new boyfriend. I want to leave our past behind, pretend as if it didn’t happen. I want to find a cottage in the middle of nowhere somewhere overseas, settle down with the people I love, and pretend that our relationship didn’t start with secrets and deception. Because I love them.

I’m not mad about the cheating, honestly, I’m not. I’m not mad about the people involved, truly. If it was going to be anyone, it was going to be him. That’s alright. The three of us feel natural together. It was just a matter of time. But I should have known. They should have told me. If not before the original incident, then right after. I deserved to know. I didn’t deserve people going behind my back for two months, keeping secrets and not owning up to what they did.

They took responsibility eventually. Better late than never, really. At least I know now. But that doesn’t stop the pain.

I’m hurt. I’m hurt and I’m losing friends fast and I’m trying desperately to hold on to those I still have. It’s not a lot.

I can’t lose anyone else.

There’s nothing I can do to keep them.

None of this was a choice for me. None of it. Perhaps the forgiveness and willingness to talk like a mature adult was, but the actions of others were what drove everything to the bottom of this sea of pain and regret.

There was nothing I could do.

I didn’t know until too late.

I’m trying not to drown in this hurricane, just trying to wait until it’s over. They’ve made this toxic storm, and I’m clinging to my driftwood as it pitches and tosses me this way and that. I am helpless to stop this force of nature.

So all I can do is wait.

All I can do is hope I survive.