I still think of you. I loved you very much

I was very much in love with you.

That’s the part that still pisses me off the most.

I wasn’t halfway in. I wasn’t one foot out the door. I loved you completely. I married you believing we were building a life together. I defended you. I trusted you. I ignored warning signs because I wanted to believe that what we had was real and that love could overcome everything else.

Instead, I became another chapter in a story that started long before me and continued after me.

I wasn’t special. I wasn’t different. I was the next guy who believed your promises, who thought I could help heal your wounds, who thought if I loved you enough, supported you enough, sacrificed enough, things would work out differently. They didn’t.

You used people. You discarded people. You rewrote history to make yourself the victim while leaving others to clean up the emotional wreckage. I watched you do it to others and convinced myself you would never do it to me.

I was wrong.

You didn’t just leave a marriage. You left debt, confusion, anger, humiliation, and a thousand unanswered questions. You took someone who believed in forever and made him question his own judgment.

And here’s what really pisses me off, I still missed you.

I missed the woman I thought you were. I missed the laughter, the inside jokes, the dreams, the companionship. I missed the version of you that made me feel loved and chosen. I grieved someone who, in many ways, never consistently existed.

I hate that I gave you so much power over my happiness.

I hate that I ignored my instincts because I loved you.

I hate that I spent months trying to understand why I wasn’t enough when the truth is that no one was ever going to be enough. The cycle didn’t start with me, and it didn’t end with me.

I wasn’t perfect. I made mistakes. But I showed up. I stayed. I fought for us until there was nothing left in me to give.

You didn’t destroy my ability to love. You damaged my ability to trust. There is a difference.

And despite everything, I refuse to be ashamed of the way I loved you. The shame belongs to the people who manipulate loyalty, exploit kindness, and walk away without taking responsibility for the pain they leave behind.

I was very much in love with you.

But loving you almost cost me myself.