It's been more than ten years since I stopped trusting people.

I understand that may seem harsh, or hyperbolic, but it is what it is.  I'd say it would happen to anyone in that situation, but I don't know that.  All I know is that I was betrayed by the person I trusted more than anyone in the world, and the effect on me was devastating.

And now, when he's in town visiting other people, I sit here alone, body so tense that it hurts.  It happens every time.  I can't allow myself to be around friends right now, not with my thoughts as poisoned as they are.  I do it out of compassion, so that no one else's good mood is ruined by the hate seeping out of me.  I do it out of fear, for what would happen if anyone knew just how far gone I was, inside.  I do it out of self-preservation, thinking that as long as I'm here, he can't destroy any more of what life I've managed to rebuild.

I can only begin to explain how this feels.  Imagine that you've been stabbed in the back, and now someone else has taken the blade and is waving it around in your face, laughing.

I think, at times like these, about what would happen if I were to just disappear one day.  If I just wandered off, leaving everything behind, and found my own way in the world, to live and die on my own terms.  How long would they look for me, if I left no trace?  I'll probably never do it.

What am I to them, even?  Am I more than just a battery, providing them things they need in exchange for a comfortable slot to reside in?  I don't know.  And I won't think more on it now, when the bitterness flavors every thought.