I Refuse To Be Your Victim. To You SY .
I’m nothing if not a warrior.
I claim no such thing as victimhood.
I walked headfirst into the flames of you, chin lifted in preparation for the oncoming battle.
I could dissect my own psyche until all that’s left are tangled strands of grey matter and some bloodied bone on a filthy floor.
And I have done all this and more.
I have dissected my own mind, heart and soul, prostrated myself under the unforgiving operating room lights.
I have spent night after night on my knees, head bowed in reverence or desperation.
I have howled into the abscesses of abandoned buildings and created a cacophony between ancient tree trunks.
My heart still scream your name in the thickest parts of the night.
For despite it all you were my darkest secret and my greatest gift.
I never could explain you to anyone after all and I should never have tried.
For in doing so, in owning my truth, my mistakes and my brokenness I lost people.
I lost people who once loved me voraciously.
Through you, from you and after you,
I learnt the hard black truth that love can be conditional.
My love is not.
There are no conditions to my heart.
Truth is that there’s no way to know the depths nor the confines of another’s heart.
For a moment, a glimmering, glittering moment, you were the best thing in my world.
You were exquisite.
You were irreplaceable.
For years I read and read about a love like yours.
Oceanic, tidal and a hurricane of love.
A force of nature ,, that was you.
When we met you captured me.
You made me believe in you.
There were no holes in your stories.
There appeared nothing but offering in your palms.
Your words were a beautiful onslaught, my first taste of a higher consciousness.
You were consistent, addicted and your words had their own form of worship.
You showed me how it felt to be loved.
You were your own delicious reverence.
Little by little you began to reveal your truth.
It’s only natural after all one can only wear a mask for so long, even one as astonishingly fitting as yours.
It suited you perfectly.
But all your masks did.
You, the professional deceiver.
You, the mirror of all souls.
Who was I to claw my way through your mask?
Who was I to know how to do so?
I heard your words of warning.
I heard you as you began to reveal your darknesses.
And I too have such depths as all of us.
Who was I to judge you for yours or to hold it against you?
But you showed me only what you wished and your actions countered your words.
You were so present.
You were so charismatic.
Who was I to hear such flimsy words of warning?
To call myself a victim of yours felt like shrugging off my own faults.
For unlike so many others, I was aware of your life at some extent.
As I said, I walked knowingly into your fire.
But your fire was stronger, brighter and more consuming than you ever told me.
Your fire was the fire you knew I wanted and you custom made it for me.
I didn’t wish to claim victimhood because it seemed to absolve me of guilt.
I own my part of the story.
You may never own yours because you don’t have to.
Your life continues to go on for that is what the lives of people like you do.
They go on uninterrupted.
You know little about hearts and less about love.
But I fell for you.
And you were never you.
You created a facade in response to my needs.
Everything you ever told me.
Every word you ever spoke.
Every action you ever took.
Every story you ever made up.
You were a gorgeous, elegant and a custom made human being and that is what the most talented sociopaths can become.
You became exactly who and what I needed, craved and desired.
You were a mirror to my desires.
The emotional turmoil you caused inside me.
The questioning of a huge chunk of my life never knowing what was real and what was not.
This was the most exquisite form of torture, the psychological fire.
For yes I knew of your fire and I received it’s burns.
To anyone who is suffering in silence.
Who maybe confused about their current relationship or their currency as a lover or as a human being.
I know the depths of your suffering.
I too sat in the depths of confusion.
I know it feels trivial when others tell you to simply move on with their chipper voices and their offers of comfort however well intentioned.
I know the darkness.
The very idea of leaving feels like removing the skin from your bones and rolling around on gravel without a casing for your soul.
But you must.
You must find some sliver lining inside your spirit that calls to you.
Come or go.
Wherever he is not you must be.
Remind yourself of who you are.
That is just enough to help you make it out.
And then in that sliver lining you have pried open and scrambled out of ,, more light will be born.
That I promise you.