I'm left here speechless yet with so many thoughts racing in my mind. I can't seem to remember what exactly happened the night him and I broke up because everything that followed was much more devastating. There were more times than I could count that I would drive to him and we'd repeat the same mistake every time: we'd ignore the fact we shouldn't be together. We created a fire within us; that instead of kindling, we fought each other with by holding grudges and taking revenge on one another. Towards the end of our relationship, I blamed myself for so much of what was never my fault per say, instead was just an outcome of accumulated factors between us. Which posed me to unleash the emotions - on myself and others, that I once buried inside to try to hide the hurt away - from a broken heart. Months, no, years, I hated myself for him leaving me and I destroyed every relationship around that ever mattered because I felt as they would all leave just like he did. Insolating myself and drawing deeper into my self-inflicted despair, my actions became more than I could bare. The weight of the world crumbled on me, crushing my soul each time I would recklessly drive to his house begging for his forgiveness. Pushing aside any self respect or worth, at any time of the night, I wouldn't care - I needed him then. I needed him so much that I lost myself in him. I was no longer me, I was only his ex. That's all I could see in my rose colored glasses struct with tunnel vision. I was no longer a human being; more so a: human suffocating, a human drowning, a human losing, a human suffering, a human waiting, a human hoping, a human yearning, a human dying. Never was I 'being' my own person - not after he left until recent. What I was being was unstable, unreliable, unsafe, uncaring, vulnerable, insecure, radical, irrational, all to say the least. Only because I couldn't accept that him and I didn't belong together, we were not good for each other in any sense. Back then, I loved everything about him, even the bruises he left and scars he formed, I still loved them because they were from him. Call me insane, I'll agree...because for him, I was. I didn't care if the 35+ minute drive to what was once our home, was wasted because he wasn't there, it was still worth a chance. Sometimes I question if I made any sort of impact on him, or am I just some other girl he checked off his list? He knows how I got too close to our fire trying to fight the flames, and now have a scar burned into my heart, for the rest of my life. The love I had for him, that is now buried somewhere in Pandora's Box, is what reminds me to never, ever, love that hard, ever, again. I stayed single for years and I still have yet to heal from the torture I endured by him. Some call it 'trauma-bonding' mixed with 'battered wife syndrome', while I just call it 'self-sacrifice'. I say that because I gave up everything I possibly could to try to make things work with him and in the end, nothing did. What I did do was ruin my safety, security, sanity, stability and salvation. Honestly, I drove past his house not too long ago and I begged God to release me from everything that's happened between him and I, not only for my sake, but for his as well. I forgive him, yet most of all, I forgive myself for allowing myself to love like nothing else mattered.