It Wasn’t Just Cruel—It Was Systematic
There were videos of me laughing at stupid TikToks.
Captioned like I was a circus act.
There were recordings of me singing “Happy Birthday” to my mom.
There were clips of me talking about my day, about plans, about the future.
And every time, there was his commentary underneath like a sports announcer calling a game he hated.
I kept going back because my brain refused to accept what my eyes were showing.
Then I found July.
One of his friends asked the question that should’ve ended my relationship months earlier:
“If she’s so annoying, why haven’t you dumped her yet?”
His response was a paragraph that didn’t just hurt.
It explained everything.
“Are you kidding? She’s so desperate for love it’s hilarious. Free meals, the BMW, this apartment. I’m living like a king while she plans our ‘wedding’ lol.”
My apartment.
My food.
My car.
My life.
And I was just… a resource.
The bathroom handle jiggled.
I didn’t have time to process.
I had time to act.
I started taking photos on my phone as fast as I could—dates, names, timestamps, context.
When he came back, I was back on the couch like nothing happened.
He sat down. Wrapped an arm around me. Kissed my temple.
“You’re the best, babe,” he said.
I smiled.
And decided he would never see the real me cry about this.
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