I see you.
I want you to know I worry about you every day.
I think about you as an outlet for his dark rage and I tremble as I remember the moods and the blaming and the way nothing was ever good enough.
Knowing that every time something goes wrong for him, means you will receive punishment in some way.
I remember feeling like life with him was an endless black hole I thought I could fill with love.
Until I got buried.
I remember believing the lies, because if they weren't true, why was he still fighting? Being told just enough of the truth to be convinced but being shielded from the horrifying reality.
All the women who had done him wrong. The pressure to never be like that. To never do anything to look after yourself and your well-being.
It couldn't be abuse because he was the victim in all this, right?
I have been where you are. Wanting to save somebody you love while they pull you under with them.
I see you, being mocked and shrinking and existing just to be his emotional punching bag.
When you are ready, you will know.
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