I'm scared. Terrified that you blind yourself to the truth for what ifs, for fear of being alone again, convincing yourself that things will get better, that he'll 'get over it', that you'll learn to live with it. Then one day, you'll decide it's too late. You don't want to leave because you don't want your kids to have the same childhood you did. One day, you'll give up on yourself, convinced that even if you leave you won't be happy. One day, you'll look back and say "I've devoted so much of my life to this... I can't just walk away from it." This terrifies me.
Everyone told me to stop caring. To let people do what they want, no matter how destructive it is, and as long as I say "I don't approve" I've done all I can. I can't accept that. I'd rather be the friend that does what you need me to even if that means you'll hate me in the end, than the friend that stands idly by, lets you get hurt, and says "told you so."
With great power comes great responsibility. With little power comes greater responsibility. To stand by and let something terrible happen while you have even a chance to stop it is just as bad as doing it yourself. So no, I can't stop caring. Not until I'm dead. Even then, I'm not sure I'll stop. That's who I am. Who are you?
I don't want you to want me. I want you to be happy. I'm sure we've all heard that line before. Here's the trick; I mean it. You might be able to convince yourself that you're happy, or that the good times outweigh the bad. I've been there too. They don't. It took something outrageous to show me that. Even then, I tried to convince myself to stay, that I could change her, it's a phase, she's sorry. Not because I feared being alone, but because I feared her being alone. I cared too much. Then I realized... she'd be like this no matter who she was with, no matter what the circumstances, and nothing I do or say will change her... she has to be the one to do it. I didn't close any doors, I simply stepped out of the room.
If you're the praying type, don't pray for me.
Pray for her to see him for what he is. I hope with all my heart that he changes, grows up, and treats her right. I know with all my heart he won't. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone.
And no, you don't know what I'm talking about. You just think you do. And no, I won't tell you what I'm talking about. That is between me, my irrational heart, and my fractured mind. I just hope who needs to reads this and sees. I know they probably won't. Me and the patron saint of lost causes have that in common.
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