love

Deep down, I’ve never really understood why people like me.  Having someone love me is just crazy.    I guess it goes along with trust… I used people and I know they used me.  I was lied to in ways that changed my life.  But I lied too.  I thought that I could make anything work.  I didn’t understand what love was.

When I fell in love for the first time, I gave everything over.  I loved how his secrets matched mine and I didn’t feel alone anymore.  I felt special.  I was the perfect proud girlfriend.  I cooked and cleaned.  I fished and prepared what we caught.  I didn’t scream about blood and I didn’t mind when he stayed out late with friends.  I loved his family and the dreams we were creating.

He started to make jokes.  They were little slights about my past.  They reminded me that I should be ashamed.  He started to ask a little more of me and didn’t understand why I couldn’t give it.  He was never abusive or mean.  I don’t mean to portray it that way.  But I remember at the end wondering why I couldn’t make myself better for him.  I remember thinking how unworthy I was.

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