It started with the lovebombing.
He saw me in ways I never saw myself.
He introduced me to adjectives that I liked.
He did the usual tricks — the hoovering, the gaslighting, and the use of flying monkeys.
But I feel sorry for him.
He needs a new supply.
As I kiss his lips fervently, I promise him: Relax. I'm working on it.
This is why I smile in the dark. So no one can see.
No one can see how much I enjoy his suffering.
But he knows as much as I do that no one will put up with his tantrums.
I know the tricks people play and the things that they say.
He always used to drive fast.
It's always as if he was running away from something.
I think it is from me.
submitted by /u/WRSP
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