Scapegoat

 I will never forget how you made me feel. I will never forget how much I trusted you, how much faith I put in you. How isolated you let me become. You willingly fed into every delusion, every insecurity you knew ruled my psyche. You confirmed them all, and watched as I began to self destruct. 

 I had an unwavering belief you would look out for me. That in my most unwell of times you would hope I’d get better. That if something was wrong, if I was acting ‘wrong’, you’d know instinctively it was never with bad intent, but a reflection of the chaos and pain I held inside me. I thought I hid it well but it was practically leaking and oozing from my pores. I didn’t ask for help when I should have,  I wasn’t able to see I needed it, but I was suffering, constantly, and you deemed that a crime unthinkable.

You destroyed my trust. You ruined me. Maybe not forever, but certainly for a time. A year on and it still fills me with anxiety - you still fill me with anxiety I cannot shake. I don’t want to see you. I almost forget, but the thought of you fills me with terror and self hatred that cannot be altered. I don’t want to hate myself anymore, but your closeness with those that hate me, your readiness and ability to tell me all the ways in which I should hate myself, will never leave my mind. I will never forget it. It will never leave me, because it made me so unwell. It kept me unwell. 

You cannot have it both ways. If I’m your scapegoat, then fine. But if that’s what I am to you then I cannot ever also be your friend. The two don’t mix and I’m not willing to try. I’d rather you slaughter my memory and let me move on.