Letting go is so hard some days, and it's so easy on others. Literally, yesterday, I hated her so much. She was someone that took my love and kindness for granted to do whatever she wanted. She ran my life into the ground, and acted like our relationship wasn't important enough to protect because she just wanted to go out and get drunk with her single friends. SHE made a decision to get drunk with her friend and wound up kissing another guy. No matter how you look at it, even though it was technically on the cheek, he had to shove her off. She was going after more. SHE made a decision to lock herself in the bathroom with a lesbian with me standing awkwardly in the living room, having protested and tried to get her out. SHE made a decision to make out with said lesbian not even one month after we talked about how it made me uncomfortable, and she broke her promise never to go there again. By doing all these things, SHE broke her promise to be faithful to me that she made when I asked her to marry me. SHE made a decision to get so drunk at the lesbian's that I had to go get her at 3AM and push her up the stairs as she stumbled everywhere. SHE made a decision to provoke her Dad into pulling the gun. SHE made a choice to stop working and smoked pot all day. SHE made a choice to get defensive when I talked to her about jobs, and SHE chose not to help ME.
I made a decision to keep throwing water out of the sinking boat, forgiving, and repeatedly getting hurt until I couldn't live that way anymore. I made a decision to get out.
It helps to write it out.
Today, I miss her and wish that it didn't have to end the way it did. Logic tells me that getting out was the best and only option, but the crazy part of me still wants to believe that how we felt about one another was true love. Rationally, though, if she really loved me, she would not have done those things, or rather, she would have at least chosen to listen to me and given them up when I asked her to instead of blaming me for leaving and admitting to nothing. If she loved me more than the liquor, she would have chosen to give it up for me. She would have seen how it was hurting me, and she would have given it up without even my asking. There are some days where I just have to remind myself of all the pain she put me through and how much worse it was going to get to keep myself from trying to "fix" things like I did before.
I hate that the rational part of my brain conflicts with how I feel some days. I wish they would agree more often. This sucks so much sometimes.