Your game called emotional abuse

Your game called emotional abuse

Your game called emotional abuse

LTME-post

They asked me to think about the last time I was truly happy. I wanted to say that it was when I was with you. Before I replied this silly little answer, I thought about the question itself. The truth is I don’t know what it is like to be truly happy. So like any human being on this planet we call Earth, I went to the one thing I could trust to help me answer this question. I went to Google. After a decent hour of researching happiness, I realized that my happiness with you wasn’t real. It was a mythological feeling that you gave me. The truth is if I truly look at our relationship I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. You made me miserable. You made me your psychological game. So after a long time, I discovered my answer to the question that seemed so complicated in my overthinking mind. The last time I was truly happy I was 6 years old. It sure does sound pathetic, since here I stand as a 15 year old. But as you know, my dad left me when I was 7. After you left, I made a huge breakthrough. You are my father. That discovery felt like a bullet through my chest, trust me. You both played me. You both hurt me. You both blamed me for whatever went wrong. And you both had a twisted game of abuse. But eventually I left him just to find you 2 years later. At some point, I left friends because of you. Granted some of them were horrible, but you made me leave the good ones too. I isolated myself from everyone. You were the only one I had, and that’s when your game officially began. At this point, I had no one except you, who I later found out was a monster waiting to destroy me. You made me addicted to you, and eventually you made your first attack on me. The first time I tried to escape from this addiction, it was summer. There you were at football camp, and I wanted freedom from this hurricane of confusion inside my head. So I wrote a text, “I think we should take a break from each other.” Bam! Regret came flowing towards me, and that is the moment you realized that you can slowly release your demon from within. So instead of an “okay I understand, we should take some time,” I got a “I lost some trust in you.” Then you preceded to post about it on Instagram. Did you know that I woke my mom up at 1 in the morning crying? Even if you did, you probably wouldn’t care. Finally you “forgave” me. Then later, you texted my friend, and like any friend would, she sent me screenshots. Oh my! How much guilt came to me. All I thought about was how much anger you would have towards me because of this. Yet I didn’t do anything wrong. You made me feel horrible. But yet again, you “forgave” me, just to tell me that you looked through my text messages to my friend without my permission. I was so happy that you forgave me that I didn’t feel like I had a right to be mad. But that’s what you intended to do, right? Then you knew, you could have me. You kissed me that night. I remember being so smitten over you. But I became so cautious during the end of summer and the beginning of our relationship. I felt like if I said or did something wrong, I would lose you. I became so stressed that I stopped eating. I waited for texts from you, because you treated them like treats that you give a dog. Then came my “anorexic” period. You would call me anorexic so much, that I developed anxiety over my eating, and I ended up eating less. I ate so little, that I had to go to the hospital. I was so embarrassed and scared to go, and you were M.I.A. the whole day through. But we got through that stage and moved to your bed. Sunday before the very first day of sophomore year. I’m not sure if it was because of our two week long break from physically seeing each other or if it was because of the fact that we finally said “I love you” to each other, but we were extra affectionate that night. And BAM! My first hickey was planted on my neck. I was so scared and angry that night, but of course you made me feel bad. “Oh my god! That’s huge! It could be permanent!” That is what you told me, and after I refused to take your ice, you got mad at me and moved away from me. You didn’t look me in the eye throughout the rest of the night. I was so confused and yet again embarrassed. My first day back at school and I had a hickey. I felt like such a slut. I was furious. I felt like you did it as mark to your dumb football playing friends that I’m easy. Who knows maybe you did. But we got through that. Then we approached your silence period. We never got through that. Out of nowhere, you stopped talking to me. Your smile would drop suddenly after we left a room full of your friends. I felt like I did something wrong, though I didn’t. It was just the next level of your game. You stopped saying “I love you.” You controlled my moods so much that I was a jerk to everyone I loved. One day you truly took control over me and made me weak. It was after a football game, and you took me to the tables like usual. We were making out like normal and I pulled away and said the 3 words that meant everything to me, and instead of saying it back you pulled me back into your lips. I felt so gutted. So I tried again, and you repeated your actions. Then I pulled away, and you then waited a minute and said, “I love you.” If I looked into your eyes, if I was not addicted to you, I would have saw it right there. I would saw your game, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to see the truth, so instead I leaped right back into your lap. Oh then Gracie came along. You were gone that day that my forehead was labeled a “slut.” Gracie, Gracie, Gracie. She was in love with you. I mean who wasn’t? With your fake charm, you could have anyone. So out of jealousy, rumors came out and well I guess we somehow had sex in the quad. I was invisible before, and that day everyone stared at me like I was a joke. All I wanted that day was you. I wanted you to defend me or to comfort me or something. But yet again you were M.I.A. I didn’t even have you to tell me that it was okay. You let everyone believe that you took my virginity. It was your crazy stalker, but you didn’t care. The rumor must’ve made you a king in the locker room. Is that why you didn’t protect my reputation? Instead you put me right into your cycle of silence yet again. Most days were bad, but you knew that if you didn’t give me a good day now and then, I would leave. So you gave me one every week. You gave me hope. But not for long, for the next day it was yet another bad one. It was like you were toying me around on a sting, and you knew exactly what you were doing. I remember this one day that I pissed you off. I was so proud of myself, because that day was supposed to be your good day. However, I didn’t want it. So I didn’t give you the satisfaction of me being happy that you were happy. So I treated you exactly how you treated me. You were furious, and it backfired on me. Because you became mean upfront about it. You blamed me for this distance between us, but we both know that was bullshit. Then we had a huge fight a week later, after a game, and I told you exactly how I felt. Instead of an “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” I got a “It’s all in your head. You’re acting childish.” You chose to gaslight me. Just like my entire relationship with my dad. Then you preceded to ignore me for the whole weekend and on the following Monday said, “oh yeah….. I was…. Busy.” Busy? Really? But that was your game, if I complain, I get no treats. My friends would beg me to leave you, but I thought you were going through some tough stuff. So I decided to defend you, and fought for you by losing myself. I became someone completely different, that I couldn’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. But I fought for you, while all you did was tear me apart. Then October 2nd came. It was great at first. My mom and my sister weren’t fighting for once, I was a nice person, I gave Jessie a water when she forgot one. I was happy, but then you showed up. And yet again I was miserable. Right away I knew it was a bad day. But I tried to ignore it, so I talked about my dad and the party I was scared to go to. All I wanted you to do was say that it was okay to not go, but you gave me a rude snobby remark and then went back into silence. Then Bam! You asked to be friends. I was shocked. The day before was good. I stood by you. I fought for you, but just like that you gave up on me. I felt my eyes burning with tears, so I left. Which later you punished me for by not telling me why you chose to make this decision. But now I know that you got bored. I know that you wanted more drama, so you left. I cried so much that day that my eyes were swollen, puffy, and red. But you. You were happy. You got freedom. You spent the whole day laughing with your friends not even caring about how I felt. And then that night, you wouldn’t even give me the decency of a simple reply of a text. Over the course of the next two weeks, we got into countless arguments over texts and calls. Eventually you gave me an “I’m just not ready for a relationship.” I believed you, until a couple weeks later you were with Nicole. I was crushed once again by you. But that was just the next step of your game. Boy was your whole relationship torture to me. Then I found out that you told her and anyone who would listen that I was crazy, scary, and clingy. You would start fights in the hallways with me just to accuse me of something I didn’t do and then walk away. You would put ideas into both Nicole’s and my head that we needed to hate each other. You ruined my reputation again. You made me go crazy. You made your rumors true. All I wanted was freedom, but every time I was close to being happy again, you dragged me back into your twisted psychotic game. You would make sure that I knew that I am ruining your life and that I shouldn’t exist. You put me into such a deep state of depression that I couldn’t get out of bed most days, and when I did I had horrific panic attacks so bad that I couldn’t breathe. Everywhere I went in that hell hole we call school, there was always someone who gave me a dirty look and mumbled crazy or psycho under their breath. I hated myself so much that I began to cut myself. I was so close to killing myself. And then bing! You texted. You told me that I’m the one talking bad about you. And you made me even believe you so much that I apologise. That is how sick and evil your game is. Then in the middle of our conversation I texted my greatest ally about how I felt and about my suicidal thoughts, but then bing! You texted again, saying that I make you want to kill yourself and I don’t have a right to have my feelings because people have it worse than I do. You didn’t seem to see the irony in that at all, mister I have two parents who love me and everyone at school thinks I’m great. Anyways, after your text I unsent my text admitting my feeling, and I immediately began to cut myself. Because yet again I was ruining your life. You, a person I loved, but also hated. You destroyed me. You put me through your game for months. I lost my sanity. I lost my reputation. I lost many friends because of you. I lost my love for myself. I lost my respect. I lost the ability to wear shorts. I lost the ability to look at myself the same. I lost everything, because you wanted to play your game. And that’s exactly what you did to Nicole. And that’s exactly what you will do to the next sad broken girl you see. Your game takes a sad lonely broken girl and gives her joy and happiness just to chew her up and spit her out worse than before. And I was just another pawn in your game. Someday you will forget me. Someday I will just be another girl to you, but I will never forget. You are the boy who broke me just like my father did before you. And you are the reason why I have scars on my thighs. And you are why I am officially scared to love. You are the game of which I lost.

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