Of all the sins and injustices ever perpetrated against me, the second cruelest was being told “I love you” when it was known to be lie.
I lived for years believing it was true, when all the while I was nothing more than a convenience, a stepping stone, someone to be mollified until something better came along.
The reality of the lie shook me to my foundation. It was more than a betrayal by a lover. It made me doubt myself to my core. How was I not able to differentiate truth from lie? How could I have been so naive? Was I really that gullible, that desperate to believe? How did I miss the signs, which in retrospect seemed obvious. What did all that say about me, about who I was? About who I thought I was?
I never did get over it. I could never bring myself to trust anyone again because I was no longer able to trust myself. I crawled down deep inside myself and let nothing and no one pull me out. It was lonely but it was safe.
The cruelest sin of my life, the one that did the most damage, was the one I perpetrated upon myself.
What I could have learned, what I should have learned, is that there is no love without risk. The very nature of love requires flying without a net.