You asked why I left. Said it creeped you out; I was acting like you physically abused me. Said your friends counseled that the break up had something to do with my next period. Said you were honest with them. Did you tell them how you broke the headboard, demanded to read my journals? I said yes; you ransacked the house at 4:30 AM. Emails, too! I said yes. You wanted my complete honesty and vulnerability. Needed to know my entire sexual history prior to you. I gave it, too slowly. Later you said you had a two-year-old cancer diagnosis, older than us, you'd done nothing about. Demanded I tell no one. When I sat on the bed, went to therapy, said for a solid month I would stay because I loved you, you looked terrified. Slashed me with memories of men I'd slept with when I wasn't yours, said my dishonesty about my past was the reason you'd never told me about your possible illness. I didn't speak because I wanted you to be happy. Thought we could be happy. Wanted my privacy so I could shame myself without your help. You pressed those buttons whenever we got too close. Said the stress of our relationship was too much to deal with in addition to seeing a doctor. So I got out of the way. It never was, as you imply frequently, another man. Your well-being is important to me, even after everything you said that broke me. Why did I leave? I was raised in emotional abuse. I have a workable understanding and empathy about the situation even if you can't admit it. But I don't have to live with it. I can only heal me. That's my truth, even if no one else knows.
You Want Closure
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