You were hurt and you were damaged. I was too. But you were malicious, focused on the past, focused on your bruised ego. You ignored the bruises you left on me.
Your ego was fixed but I was still trying to find enough salvageable pieces of myself to put together a whole person. I wasn’t the same person you met. I was either better or worse, I’m not quite sure.
But those slow strokes down my back, those talks in your car in the middle of the night, and those God damn smiles I thought only I saw… they made me feel like more than I thought I was worth.
When you ripped them away from me I realized my self worthy was never relevant to you. You didn’t do these things for me, or because of me. You did them to see my reaction. You crave adornment and I was naive. I’m not as stupid as some like to believe. I knew what you did was at least partly selfish.
But I would never have predicted that your imperialism would overpower your humanity.