He was important. That’s the complete definition of his being. But the truth is, I’m important too. We lose ourselves in people the moment we intertwine. We justify things they do wrong and fall in love with things they do right. We justify little jabs, little words, little white lies with thinking they’re normal. They’re not. When you fall in love with someone, you want them happy. Their happiness makes you happy. That’s love. And since I was in love, I thought I was actually wrong. I would reward him when he treated me horribly. I would love him harder when he threw toxicity. It was dangerous. Vile. Absolutely terrifying that someone could make you feel so immensely cold, but so crazy in love. That’s emotional abuse.
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