Don’t do it, I want to tell her. Don’t go back to him.
But it’s too late. She’s with him again, and she’s got all the same old excuses for being with him.
I’m keeping it casual.
He’s different now, not like he was before.
So you forgot, I guess.
You forgot all the nasty things he called you.
You forgot how he made you feel like a piece of shit by all the things he said, and all the things he did.
You forgot all the insecurity and the tears and the feelings of insanity.
You forgot how he didn’t put you first. Hell, he didn’t even put you second.
You forgot how your son said he was scared of him. How your son knew that this guy didn’t make you happy.
But you went back anyway.
I suppose you went back for all the same reasons all of us go back–because you can’t get those old tapes to stop playing in your head, you can’t get past the fear of being alone, you can’t put yourself first, let alone your son.
I want to tell you you’ll regret it. I want to scream “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE GO BACK TO THAT PIECE OF SHIT AND CHOOSE HIM OVER YOUR KID!”.
But I don’t. I stay quiet. There’s nothing I can do even though I can see how this all will play out, and I don’t even need a crystal ball. You will have to learn on your own, because it’s something which can’t be taught.
I had to be my own teacher, but I eventually learned.
I have been you.
And you are now me.