Broken

Pain is pain.

For many their worst pain was physical.

For me, however, my worst pain is emotional.

Such pain cuts deeper than any knife, any blade, any bullet.

It leaves scars on your heart, and torment unimaginable.

It began when I needed space, and then the words, the manipulation, came.

Gaslit, manipulated, strung along, her words cut me deep.

They cut like daggers, like blades, leaving horrible wounds upon me.

A part of me even then knew what was happening, yet I did not listen.

I tried to make things right, blamed myself for wrongs I had not committed.

And yet still she cut, deeper and deeper into my soul.

At last a moment came, where she stopped her blows, but for a moment only.

Then she cut once again, her words even sharper than before, stabbing deeper and deeper.

For 6 months time this went on, until at last once more, with aid of others I resisted.

And at last the words they stopped.

She blamed me for the ruination of the relationship and withdrew.

I was left then, bleeding from wounds that cut to the soul.

Recovery has been difficult.

I climb a few steps, only to fall back down many more.

6 months it took to end, perhaps it may take 6 months more for me to heal.

I struggle, I crawl, limping forward, trying the best I can to rebuild my broken world.

My very mental lifeblood flows from my wounds.

And from afar, she watches still.

Great success appears to follow her now.

Stability, safety, happiness, glory, and love.

All while I watch, wretched and broken, surrounded by the very pieces of all that I am.