The other woman

How the hell did I allow myself to be the side chick of a fat, unattractive short boy? Not that he spent on me or anything. He was always claiming broke yet showering his girlfriend with affection. Gave him my last money sometimes, my body even when I didn’t want sex, killed our baby for him…
My answer – LOVE
Love made me reduce my standards, made me cry, made me bitter, made me suicidal, made me mad. The number of poems I wrote because of him is shameful. He was my closest friend. I’m lonely without him but I’ll survive.
I’m still bruised and hoping I don’t go back to shit. Didn’t tell him I ended things (ghosting him might prove successful). I pray for strength. I pray for forgiveness, for myself and him.
I’m at peace now that I’m not with him, just guilt and sadness clouds me. It’s better than feeling happy but bitter, suicidal, angry, unrest and toxic with him.

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