I Should Have Known

I should have known.

I should’ve known when the first day, he drove to her work to talk to her.

I should’ve known when he slipped and said he loved her…”I love her, I care about her”

I should’ve known when it was her not him who packed his things.

I should’ve known when he said his worst fear was “leaving her and still not getting to be with you”. I focused on the leaving her part. People do anything to avoid their worst fears. Losing me is not the worst fear…

I should’ve known when he was embarrassed to tell anyone in real time that I was coming to town. That I existed. When he continued to hide me. Like some fucking ugly secret.

I should’ve known the minute he couldn’t set boundaries around being at her house.

I should’ve known when he spent night after night there.

I should’ve known when he cared enough about what she was saying to text with her when I was right in front of him.

I did know when I was there and he was distant. I started to know. I just wished I didnt…

I should’ve known when he didn’t cry dropping off at the airport this time…for the first time, he didn’t cry.

I should’ve known when he cared more about her meltdowns than mine. Her crazy gets care. My crazy is left to fend for itself. Always. Every time.

I should’ve known when he pulled away from me and started being mean to me.

I should’ve known when he didn’t care that I was sick.

I should’ve known when he didn’t care that my grandfather almost died.

I knew when he paused and couldn’t tell me when I asked if he was back together with her. I wish I could unhear and unfeel that goddamn pause. It lives inside me like a focking disease, constantly lurking, constantly carving, settling into my very bones.

I knew then. but I should’ve known sooner.

I still know. I know deep down he’s moved back in. He’s trying again. He only loved me when I was secret. I know. I know it and yet…

…my body won’t accept it. My brain won’t accept it. My soul reviles at the thought. My heart oscillates between inviting that entire spiky truth in to rip it to shreds and tossing it out and shunning it. As if ignoring it makes it go away.

But it’s always there. The ugly truth. Slowly destroying me, wreaking havoc, a never-ending war inside all the parts of me.

I know. I wish I didn’t.

Because it IS my worst fear, and I’m forced to wake up and confront it anew every single morning.

I wish I didn’t know.

I wish I never knew him.

-Annie V.