There are moments in life when anger and hurt boil over, and today, I’ve reached my breaking point. I literally hope my boyfriend chokes on his food tonight. I have never felt such an intense level of hatred for someone I once cared about, but here I am, done with the endless cycle of physical and mental abuse, manipulation, and gaslighting.
Things had been better for a while, or so I thought. That’s why I hadn’t written much lately—because there was hope. But today shattered any illusions I had left.
Last night, he barged into the bedroom at 1 a.m., shining his phone’s flashlight, disrupting my sleep yet again. I told him if he’s going to come in that late and be so loud, he should sleep on the couch. I only manage to sleep until 4 a.m. most nights because of him, and I dared to ask for peace. But when I woke him up later for snoring, that’s when he completely lost it.
His response? He screamed that he hated me, called me a piece of shit, and unleashed a string of insults for something as small as me asking him to stop snoring. All I wanted was a little rest. But what I got was a reminder of just how deep his anger and resentment towards me go.
The silence that followed today was just as painful. He ignored me all day, as though nothing had happened, like I wasn’t still angry, hurt, and drowning in hate. And just when I thought I might be able to hold it together, he drops another bombshell. After getting home from work, he tells me he’s going out to dinner with friends, and then he blocks me.
We were supposed to have dinner together.
I feel so much rage, so much bitterness, that I can barely think straight. It’s hard to see past the storm of emotions. All I can think about is how much I want him to pay for what he’s done. The part of me that’s been beaten down, emotionally bruised, and gaslit for too long wants him to feel the same pain he’s caused me. Maybe it’s wrong to think like that, but it’s how I feel right now.
I’ve spent so long hoping things would change, holding on to moments that seemed good, that made me believe it could get better. But they were just brief respites in a sea of abuse and manipulation. Maybe he does deserve all the bad things happening in his life, like only seeing his kids twice a month. Maybe he deserves worse.
I’m not proud of these thoughts. But they are honest. They are raw, and they are mine.
For anyone reading this, I want to say something important: if you are feeling like this, if you’re stuck in a similar cycle of pain and abuse, know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel angry and hurt, but more than that, it’s crucial to protect yourself. I don’t have all the answers, but I know that I can’t keep living like this. And neither should you.
No one deserves to feel this way. Not me. Not you. Not anyone.
The Fourth Trimester 