I have never in my life had someone hate me so much. Never has anyone spread lies about me.
But you know what really makes me sad? I wonder if he believes the lies he spreads. So far immersed into the lies, he might not be able to decipher between the truth and the falsities he spews.
So disgusted am I by the time I spent with him. For him. Behind him, supporting him in all things.
I've learned to let go of the past. I know the truth, and those who matter know the truth, and the One who really matters, he knows.
I'm beginning to wonder if this will ever end. I'm starting to believe that it never will.
Last night, when he walked past me, his eyes were glued to the floor, his head tucked to his chest.
The world tells me I should revel in my apparent victory. In the fact that I'm ok and he is not, that I have forgiven and he has not, that I've accepted reality and he has not.
Somehow I can't do that. I've tried tried tried to understand what is going on. Somehow a part of me yearns for reconciliation, despite the pain, despite the bruises and wounds and scars. I have been restored, and I want him to be too.
But I can't be the one to do that. I can't be that for him. He chooses hatred, I choose love, and the two will not mix.