Your apology meant nothing to me.
Your apology was not meant for me,
Your apology was meant for you.
Your apology was pathetic.
You only did it to save your mind from eating itself in the middle of the night.
Constantly chomping at the thought of our last conversation.
The one where you called me selfish because my feelings were hurt.
The one where you said we would never work because our trauma doesn't match.
The one where you said I couldn't possibly fathom being in the same house as my ******.
The one where you told me our relationship was a pool and you couldn't understand how I was able to dive in.
The one where you told me you never wanted a relationship.
The one where you threw me away like a rotten banana peel.
Like a banana,
I opened myself up to you.
Peeling my layers one by one.
I started to get bruises from all the nasty words you said to me,
you said to my friends, and
you said to my family.
But I was still good.
I was still a sweet, ripe banana.
You always knew how to make me feel ashamed for being a bruised banana.
You were right,
we will never work.
Your reasons were wrong.
We will never work because I was never what you wanted.
We will never work because you could not open yourself up to me.
There were things you kept from me that I never would have kept from you.
Our trauma doesn't match because I'm working through mine and you're still on the first step,
afraid of what the next step has in store for you.
I have learned how to handle my trauma while you still let it eat away at you.
You let your trauma control your life.
I won't let my trauma control mine anymore.
Our relationship was like a pool,
I was ready to dive head first into the deep end
while you stare at me from the steps,
unaware of how to swim.
Our trauma was like a pool.
I jumped head first into the deep end,
tackling my trauma head on.
Ready to face my fears,
confront my ******,
my abuser, and
my family.
You stood on the steps,
getting your toes wet.
With multiple swim floaties
and a group of people encouraging you to jump in.
You were afraid of what you'll find at the bottom.
Even with floaties and people cheering you on,
nothing will ever be enough.
We will never work because I cannot be the counselor you seek.
You were wrong. I do know what it's like to be in the same house with my ******. I was with mine for a year after he ***** me. Unaware and confused that he could ever do something like that to me if he loved me so much. Our trauma is similar, you just refuse to believe everyone else's trauma because its not as rough as yours.
