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I am sure that you loved me when we first got together. I was so happy that for once, I could tell that my significant other turtles loved me. We would argue about who loved who more and we really wondered. At times, I thought you loved me more and I loved that. It was a first for me. You made me feel so good. So wanted. So loved. Even once you left. So I ignored the bad parts, because when I was with you I felt so sure and safe and at home. A feeling I rarely felt in the whirlwind of trauma that was my life. I felt like for once things were going well for me. I missed you so much when you left. I cried each time you came home and left again. But I held on to the fact that once you were home for good, everything would be perfect. We made so many plans: the dates we would go on, the movies we would watch, the sex positions we’d try. I was so excited. I clung to that. And then everything fell apart. You hurt me and fell out of love and even then I thought that everything would be ok once we could talk and we could hang out and I could prove to you just how lovable I was. But I was hurting myself in the process. So I had to let you go and that hurts me so deeply. I thought you were the one. We talked about our kids and how we’d tell them awful bedtime stories but it would be ok. And how they’d grow up and you’d get old and gross so I’d kick you to the curb but me an the kids would still visit you. But worse than that is remembering how it felt to kiss you, to touch you, to hold you. How good it felt for you to do that to me. Holding me on the couch underneath the blanket or spooning me in my bed. Feeling your love in more places than one. Seeing you again was so hard. You looked so good. I just wanted to kiss you. I knew that you weren’t so torn up over the break up, and didn’t feel too bad for hurting me like you did, but seeing you brought all those memories back. And now here I am hurting, wishing that we had had more time, that things didn’t go how they did, wishing that you would just love me and that our differences wouldn’t be so fundamental and you’d be utterly broken for hurting me so that I could justify loving you too. But I know that can’t happen. So for now I push it all away. Because the pain is too much and hurts too bad. And I just hope that one day I will find someone who loves me the way I love others, who is compatible and willing to love me loud and publicly, someone who adores me and only wants me, someone who I feel at home with, who’d never hurt me. But I know I need to learn to be alone and to love me first. But it feels so much better to be loved by another person. Love is so painful.
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