Evil

You’re not evil. I’ve looked into the eyes of evil. I’ve heard it’s voice, and in my dreams I still hear it. I have felt its hands on my body and its breath on my face. I’ve known evil intimately, and you just don’t make the cut. 

Evil is what shaped me, honed me into the mess I am now, too afraid to commit to one person, too overwhelmed when my feelings for someone run deep. That’s why I am the way I am. 

I’ve always been the other woman, the one someone left someone else for. I have always flirted with unavailable people because they were safe, they couldn’t really be with me, and therefore they couldn’t really know me and know how messed up I am. And every time they’ve left their s/o for me. Every time I’ve dated someone I’ve been a rebound. I never bothered looking for available people, because in my PTSD riddled, disaster of a mind, that was somehow too dangerous. 

And maybe, just maybe that’s why my feelings for you run so very deep– maybe it’s why, instead of outraged and disgusted and angry, the only thing I feel is a kind of detached confusion, and an impossible amount of pity. You were safe because you were taken, and then you took my feelings for you, my flirting, my teasing, and created something I couldn’t resist– someone who was taken and was with me anyway. 

I am programmed for polyamory. I’ve never understood how a monogamous relationship works. I learned that being with more than one person at a time was normal, preferable even, to being chained to just one person. Evil did that to me. 

So no, you’re not evil. You’ve never looked at a child and made the conscious decision to harm that child irreparably, to ruin their life just because the boundary between a sexually active and consenting adult and an actual, literal child got somehow blurred. 

What you are, darling, is cruel. You can talk about how you’re getting the hang of this dating thing, all the while consciously sleeping with someone else, and that is cruel. Not to me– I went into this knowing full well you were taken, and that’s my own fault, and it’s completely messed up and wrong. But it is cruel to the person you’ve cheated on. If she ever finds out– and we always do– she’ll spend the rest of her life going to sleep at night wondering why she wasn’t good enough for you. 

And, darling, it’s cruel to you. It’s cruel to yourself to say that you can work on a relationship when you’re obviously not happy in it. It’s cruel to pretend to be happy and continually undermine yourself, just because you’re too scared to push either of us away. Cruel to do things that, five years from now, you’ll have to look back on in shame, wondering how you could mess everything up so badly, how you could make such an enormous and dreadful mistake. 

You will never be evil. Miserable, selfish, and disappointingly cruel. But not evil.

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