*"How could I let this happen? It’s the question that loops endlessly in my mind, each repetition cutting deeper, like a blade turning in an open wound. I thought I was smart. Cautious. But here I am, standing in the wreckage of my own blind trust, trying to piece together how I didn’t see it—didn’t see them for what they really were. A liar. A manipulator. A user.
And now they’re the one paying for it. Not me. Not entirely, at least. They’re the one who got caught, who’s been punished so harshly it almost makes my chest ache with the weight of it. Almost. Because, in the pit of my stomach, I know they deserve it. I know what they did was wrong. I know they hurt me. And yet... there’s this nagging voice, soft but relentless, whispering: You let them. You let them.
God, what does that make me? Weak? Pathetic? I keep replaying every moment, every conversation, every little decision I made—or didn’t make. What should I have noticed? What should I have done differently? Was it the way I smiled too easily? Or the way I wanted to believe the best in someone so badly that I ignored all the signs? All those little red flags I dismissed as nothing more than quirks. How could I not see it? How could I be so...naive?
I hate that word. Naive. It feels like a slap, a label that reduces everything I am to a single, stupid mistake. But it fits, doesn’t it? I trusted the wrong person. I let them use me, and now...now they’re ruined. And part of me—some terrible, selfish part of me—feels relieved. Because maybe now I’m safe. Maybe now they can’t hurt me anymore. But that relief is tangled with guilt, heavy and suffocating. Was it really their fault alone? Didn’t I play a role in this, even if it was just by being too trusting? Too ignorant?
I want to hate them. I do hate them. But I hate myself more. For not being stronger. For not knowing better. For being so desperate to feel wanted, to feel seen, that I let someone like* (edited)
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