Chris is dating again. After however many years it has been since we broke up, he has a new girlfriend. We're not friends anymore. Not even a little bit. Nick, bless his soul, made sure that I cut those ties. No, I found out through mutual friend's facebook walls. [don't even get me started on "mutual friends", "friends" of mine that know what he did to me and still, somehow consider him human enough to be friends with.]
Now, I don't particularly care that he's dating but...I feel like I have a responsibility. To his new girlfriend, that is. A responsibility to tell her, woman to woman, that this man raped me, emotionally manipulated me, abused me for three long years of my life. I feel like she deserves to know what kind of person she's hitched her ride to.
But then...part of me whispers that it's none of my business. To butt out of it. Let them be happy. Maybe he's changed. Maybe he victimized me because I'm an easy target. I'd played the part of the victim before. I fell into the role naturally. Maybe she's stronger. Maybe she's never been broken so he won't be able to pour himself into the cracks of her existence and freeze over, widening them like great yawning mouths. Dark, deep, foreboding. But still, she deserves to know.
Right?
But they deserve the chance to be happy, right?
But I deserved the chance to be happy? And then he took my already shattered life and and ran it through the blender.
Ugh. I just don't know. Maybe I should just be happy in my own life [I am!...oh god, I have such amazing, wonderful, love filled news] and let sleeping dogs lie. Let other people deal with their own choices.
[...let him hurt another girl?
fuck.]
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