Why Didn’t You Just Kill Me

Why Didn’t You Just Kill Me

Why didn’t you just kill me? You stabbed me, watched me bleed, then patched me up— just enough to break me again. Again. And again. And again.

Until I believed you.

I believed you when you said it was my fault. I believed you when you called me broken. I believed you when you whispered  “You’re the problem.” When you told me,  “There are worse things in the world than what you feel.”

Each time I felt the blade. Each time—I stayed. Each time—I believed you.

Why did I believe you? Why did I let your truth erase mine?