She is Great

Great, she was doing great. Her parents were so proud of how she was doing. Her first year post-graduation was her time to prove herself. And so far, she was proving to be a well-adjusted adult. Her managers, on her performance review, seemed to revere her. How "responsible" she was and "disciplined." Her work schedule was 8:30 a.m.–10:30 p.m., and she still made time for the gym. Her outfits were put together, and her hair was always tied neatly in a bow. She drew on dark eyeliner every day. It was her war paint saying, "I got this." Lunch and dinner were spent at the office. Meal prepping was necessary. Five lunches and five dinners would line the refrigerator on Sunday nights. Her days were so busy– her mind was always racing about what was next at work, whether she was doing a good job, whether she was staying healthy. She texted her friends during the day, which helped pass the time. She somehow made time to go on a date in all of the madness. She somehow spent time with family. She somehow made time for herself. She would sing her favorite songs on the way home from work as a way to decompress. Her dark red, fingertipped hand would hang out of the car window, feeling the wind wisp through its fingers. When she got home, it was: shower, pack a lunch for the next day, lay out tomorrow's outfit, and then read. In that order. Every night at 11:15 p.m., she blew out her candle and rested her head to drift to sleep, preparing to take the next day by force.

Except she didn't.

She never slept.

After a few minutes of silence, she starts to whimper and whispers, "Not tonight," to herself. The dark cloud is coming; she can sense it. It wriggles its way through every fold in her brain and sits heavy on her chest. Her breathing shortens. Slowly, her head falls into her hands.

The pain is still there tonight; it was just paused during the day.

She sighs as the thoughts begin to repeat. They were the same every night, in the same order, repeating, repeating, repeating...

"He betrayed me. The one person I deeply trusted had betrayed me. The confidence I once had in my decision-making is destroyed, and what is left is a wilted, broken heart. I can't believe I was shocked; the signs were there. But it was a perfect love story, really. Star-crossed lovers making their way back to each other. We were the couple others wanted to be. Best friends, partners in crime, a yin and a yang. But in hindsight, I was simply a pawn. A pawn he played to make his ex jealous and to prove that he could get whatever he wanted. The way he sneakily moved me for the past year was a checkmate to everyone else around us. As time went on, he started to get bored. Bored of pretending to be a 'good' person. Bored of the life we were building.

Bored of me.

I feel incredibly stupid, let alone confused. The discard was all planned out, now that I can see with clearer eyes. The seeds were softly being planted with every insult and cyclical argument. He has made me hate myself in a way that scares me. And eventually, on Valentine's Day, of all days, it was done. My time was up. I am working 12 hour days and he chose to abandon me when I needed support the most. He told me that I was a charity case and he no longer wanted to be a charity. He told me he no longer felt like being a boyfriend. He told me that I had become a pathetic shell of who I was, and he was no longer attracted to me. It is a tale as old as time. The Prince wants what he cannot have, but once he obtains it, it loses its shine. My feelings were genuine, and my love was real. I had never loved another person like that before. But I loved a person who did not exist. The person I fell in love with was simply a caricature of who he thought I would love. A way to hook me and sink his egotistical claws into me. And as time went on, he could not continue acting, as no one can act forever. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Why can't I be over this already? Like he said, we were only ever friends. The promises of moving in together, marriage, and a life together weren't real. Why can't I understand that? He spent hours upon hours learning me so he could pick me apart in the end. His own family told me that behind his shield of confidence, he was oozing with insecurity. But I fell for the guise. I fell for all of the charm, wit, and love bombing. This is the most grief and pain someone has ever made me feel, but I don't have time to feel it. I do not have time to be sad. I don't have time to talk about it. I don't have time to replay the abuse. I don't have time to remember when he said he wished he could hit me– winding up his arm. I don't have time to analyze the cutting remarks about how I needed to wear more makeup. I don't have time. I don't have time. Maybe I am pathetic. I mean, he decided it was appropriate to dump me on Valentine's Day and go to the casino straight after. We toured apartments together, traveled the world together, and were best friends. How could this happen? I am pathetic. I was the problem. I became ugly. I was the one who picked fights.

Me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

But that isn't the truth. He changed. He picked fights. He became a looming, dark cloud in my life. He may think he is perfect, but I know the truth now. He may think I am crushed by being discarded, but it was the kindest thing he ever did for me. He may think he is a victim of this world, but the true victims are those in his world. He may think he knows love, but the only person he is capable of loving is himself."

Her breathing steadies, and the tears fall further apart in time. The pit in her stomach shrinks, and the dark cloud begins to lift. It made its point tonight. She hums a bittersweet tune, saying farewell to the cloud, but knows it will return tomorrow night when she is all alone. The cloud is only visible through her eyes. She turns over, and sleep overtakes her, taking her far away from the darkness.

—————

"Good morning! How are you doing this morning?"

"I am great."