I've thought about this one for quite some time. I realized that there is only one answer to this.
Myself. I made my own life hell.
It would be easy to blame it on someone else but the bottom line is I am the one that stayed. I stayed for love. I stayed for chemistry. I stayed because I thought it would get better. I stayed because I thought he'd change. I thought he'd see how great we were together...how we fit together like we were formed in the same mold. I thought he'd want to marry me. I thought he wanted to raise our kids together. I thought he wanted to take me away. I thought and I thought and I thought...and I dreamed some damn good dreams.
I kept myself in this hell for over a year after we broke up. I thought for six months that he was off working on himself and that he'd come back for me. That was until that December day that I saw her in the car with him...in my place. The same one I knew he'd been talking to...and it turned out to be the one he married. He moved on...I didn't. I couldn't. I was supposed to be with him. It's that line of thinking that tortures the mind and the soul.
I'm the one that made my own life hell. Only me...and I take full responsibility for it.
