HEARTBREAK VILLAIN

I. The Admission

I am a villain in your story.

I hurt you in unimaginable ways. I left you for unimaginable reasons. I lied to you for unimaginable pleasures. I played you for unimaginable pleasures. I was disillusioned by life. I had no concept of actually being a villain.

People told me I should leave you. I'm sure people told you to leave me. Not that we weren't good people. It's just — we weren't right for each other. Parents, grandparents, they all spoke. And we did not listen.

We never listened to anything we didn't choose to hear.

───

II. The Crimes

I left you that summer day. I never imagined what it would feel like to come home to an empty house — a note on the table. The keys.

I heard you on the phone with them. I heard you laughing. The laughter that was reserved for ME. I stole your phone. I broke it. I smashed it. And I laughed.

Money was tight. Birthdays were overlooked. Anniversaries — nothing to celebrate. Rubber rings to pretend. Lie after lie.

I know how much you love NYE. And still — I stayed in the bathroom until 12:03 am. After the countdown. Your favorite part. And came out smiling. Like everything was normal. And still managed to sleep beside you.

I know what I did to you that night. And I would make it worse.

I traveled back home and told you to your face — I was DONE. That I no longer wanted to ride this highway of life with you. That I wanted off at exit 22.

Looking back — I think we hopped on at route 15. It didn't feel like all those miles. I just recall the detours and reroutes. The construction signs were never a warning. We just drove by. Carelessly.

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III. The Apologies

I'm sorry for being a terrible driver. It wasn't my intention to hurt the passenger. I'm sorry for not letting you change the station. Never an audiobook. Never.

I'm sorry for my reckless speech. For the slurs of my drunkenness. For the spitfire. The lava pouring out of me. For twisting every conversation into a battlefield.

I didn't know if I was your teacher or your foe. Your cheerleader or your rival. The worst part is — you were right. And I fought tooth and nail to have the last laugh. It means nothing. Now on route 26.

I sometimes wish I could still play DND with you. But even then — each roll was a nightmare. Even in fantasy, we couldn't win.

I'm sorry for holding you hostage. For digging my hole and forbidding you to save me — during grad school. For wanting time and affection during moments it was inaccessible. The mind was in books. Not in life.

I'm sorry for walking on eggshells while you were depressed — when a vaccine was the only solution for all of humanity and I still didn't think it was serious.

Sorry for not understanding what a layoff was. Sorry for not supporting the pieces of you I didn't know existed. Sorry for not rallying your causes.

I'm sorry I didn't notice when you changed. I just felt the shift. I wasn't present. I was surviving you.

───

IV. The Truth Beneath the Apology

But you have to know — You were a lot to handle. No sign. No warning label. You weren't the person I fell in love with. You felt like an imposter.

I didn't want to love an imposter. I wanted to love you — the version you put on for me. The happiness. The spontaneous. The ridiculous. Vanished without a trace.

You left me alone with a new set of rules and a grenade — I knew how to use.

The quick draw. Bang. Bang. I hit the ground. Bang. Bang.

And somewhere between the wreckage and the silence — we both became people we didn't recognize.

I'm sorry for bringing another person into the home that was once ours. 

For that reason — WE LEFT.

I'm sorry I was good enough to sleep with but not enough to bear your children.

I can't believe I begged for you to go — when I once pleaded for you to pick me. To feel wanted.

I'm sorry we cried so much. Not enough. And for all the wrong things.

I still smell your car scent.

I'm sorry I thought my tenderness was a better currency. It got me this far in life — I thought it was the right exchange. It was not.

I exchanged nonsense for belief. Demanded a return. There was never an investment.

I'm sorry I couldn't see the mistakes right in front of my face. Staring at me. I really couldn't see — even now, I pretend I really couldn't see.

That was the villain in me. Playing. Teasing. Pretending.

OR IS THAT A LIE TOO?

A lie to hide the disillusioned villain I truly was — or am.

Either way — I am in my TransAm. Cruising. Flying by. Seeing all my mistakes in your life.

Letting the villain air out. 

Letting the disillusioned mind finally — make sense of it all.

Whether it does or not.