Remember this moment. This is the last time you’ll take your grasp on reality for granted. Look up at the sky because this is the last time you’ll be sure it’s blue. Look down at your feet because this is the last time you’ll know that you’re standing on land. He’s done with the romance now. It was always going to be this way. Look at your hands because this is the last time you’ll be sure they belong to you.
The first time he tries to manipulate you, it will feel foreign so you will resist it.
The second time, your perceptions will still be clear enough to see through him.
The third time, he will throw a hundred different shards of manipulation at you at once.
He will rage.
He will redefine your reality.
He will make you feel, for the first time in your life, as though you don’t have a damn clue whether the flowers outside the bedroom window are real.
It will feel like an assault because it is an assault, and by the end of the hour, it will seem as though the very world you live in has changed irrevocably. Now, the sky is gone. Now, how could you possibly know you didn’t cheat on him last weekend?
“I fucking know you did you ugly bitch.”
Remember this moment. It’s the last time you’ll be able to tell yourself you can leave anytime and that you are safe.
You. Are. Not. Safe.
You will not be able to leave “anytime”. He will chip away at your self-esteem with a thousand assaults. At first, you will only lose your faith in your perception of the world. You’ll still have your self-esteem, so you still have the power to leave.
Remember this day: It’s the last time you will blame him for your pain. From this day forward, your intellect and emotional beliefs will shatter into two separate pieces. What you rationally know to be true will no longer seem true. You’ll begin to believe things you know are not factual because he knows you. You do not.
The fiftieth time he assaults you, you’ll tell yourself if he ever gets violent you will leave.
The sixtieth time, you’ll tell yourself if he ever bruises you, you will leave.
If he ever breaks a bone you will leave.
If he ever rapes you, you’ll leave.
And you won’t leave. You won’t leave because the sky is red and the ground is over your head, and you make him behave that way. You’re the only woman who’s ever made him hit you. You’re the only woman who has made him so fucking furious.
Look out for this moment: When the sky is still blue and the ground is still beneath your feet, when you still take your grasp on reality for granted, leave.
Leave before he digs into your skull and destroys every cell of your self-respect. Leave because he hasn’t locked the door. Leave because you are free now, and there is no telling how long that will last.