Resentment: A feeling of bitter indignation at having been treated unfairly.
I used to see myself standing there.
Long white dress, curled brown hair.
But now when I picture it,
The dread makes it hard to commit.
All eyes on us.
I stand in front of someone who loves me,
Saying those words that bond us together officially.
But “til death do us part” is no longer an option.
Instead, it’s a ghost that haunts me.
It’s so common, they say.
It happens all the time, they say.
Just fight for it, they say.
If it ends, so be it, they say.
But when it ends, it’s not that easy.
It hurts. It hurts like hell.
But you aren’t the only victims.
Children? Family? Mutual friends?
It tears them all apart.
You’re too old to be upset, they say.
Get over it, they say.
But are they the ones who had to live through it?
Are they the ones who had to sit, muted, choking back tears and gasps,
Concealing herself behind a wall to hear the argument play out?
It wasn’t new to me. The arguing I was used to.
But what you did to our family,
What you put us through?
That was new.
The days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Months turned into years.
Nothing was resolved.
Arguing. Bickering. Back and forth.
Then one day, we came home… you were gone.
And I was left with resentment.
Fear of what was to come.
Hopeless and afraid.
Instead of fighting on her own, she grew weak and unstable.
She leaned on me.
I became a caretaker.
Something a young girl should never have to endure.
Paying the bills, putting food on the table.
Hearing her cry herself to sleep.
Every. Single. Night.
Because of what you put us through.
It prevented me from grieving for myself.
Prevented me from healing.
I had to take care of her first.
Like I always did.
Like I still do.
All because of you.
You ruined my fairytale happy beginning I once dreamed of.
The young, hopeful girl obsessing over pesky details.
Color palettes, bridesmaids, floral arrangements, venues.
None of it matters anymore.
You took it from me.