You Liar, Liar, But I’m A Piece of Shit.
You’re off the hook Pinocchio. I’m mad at myself for being duped.
I cannot believe you bested me. How did I not know you were lying?
After all, I was certain that I was smarter than you, Einstein and emotional IQ leaps and bounds above what you were offering. So much so that I freely gave advice, steered your life, made investments for you with my own money and paid your bills when I thought maybe you were on the spectrum. You lived rent and bill free, I checked you into a mental hospital as the guarantor, you drove my car and called me sister.
Shit. You were next level.
Just enough silence to invoke empathy and care and just enough praise and worship to feed my own insecurities that I am needed. It was so effortless it couldn’t be accidental. It was perfection for years and I fell right in line. You tore my ticket for the unreality train and conducted my life like a symphony. I began to make retirement decisions on how I was going to take care of you because you had no one else. And I loved you.
When it all fell apart you just looked at me and said “I’m sorry.” When you were told you had to leave for your betrayal and lies you said “I understand.”
You were ok with that.
You never fought for the friendship I thought we had.
That was the biggest tell. Your biggest give. Because here I sit typing knowing that if I thought for a moment that I had hurt you a fraction of the way you hurt me, begging for forgiveness comes to mind. Never giving up or letting my family go.
Not you. You were sorry, you understood, you leave for Kentucky on Saturday.
I’m a piece of shit.
