Today in therapy...

I learned that I am really fucking angry. You hit me. Eight times in 8 months, you were physically violent with me, and at the end of it, you are blaming me for what I became.

You aren't the victim, and until you recognize and own that you were abusive, I have nothing left to say. Never once, in 3 years of back and forth, of you saying you will change and try and get better, have you genuinely apologized to me for any of the hurt you caused. Not for cheating, not for lying, not for hiding your life from me, and the one that hurts the most - you have never, ever, even one time apologized for the bruises and scars left on my body WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

You don't seem to have gained the maturity or ability to be accountable for what you did to me. All you see is yourself as the victim. That's all you ever see. Your feelings matter and no one else's are important unless yours are heard first and completely validated. You can't stand to have done something wrong. You can't admit that you lost control of yourself.

I won't validate you. I don't care if my feelings matter to you now. You made me feel less than worhless during our relationship. Which, hurtfully, still feels like it was just a means to an end so you could play white picket fence and prove something to yourself.

It was never about loving me. It was about making yourself feel like a version of you that could make you feel better about your life and distract you from who you really are inside. You were a monster, a scared and angry boy with the power of a man and the rage of a hurricane. I won't be the eye of your storm again.

You're too much chaos to be my destiny. Until you are ready to stop victimizing yourself in every story you spin over your whole life, I'm going to honour my justified and rightfully placed anger at you.

Grow up. Own your shit. Do better. Or at least act like you're trying.