Shattered Reflections

Journal Entry – August 24, 2025

I know I promised—truly promised—that we would always be friends. I know I swore I would never lie to you. And I did mean it, every word, every pulse of my heart in that moment. But you… You made me lie. Not a small, harmless lie. You pushed me into deception, into bending my own truth until I didn’t recognize it, until I barely recognized myself. I walked that tightrope willingly, or maybe foolishly, because I believed in us. And yet, it was agony. Agony to try to remain faithful to my own love while you methodically chipped it away, piece by piece, day by day, like some cruel sculptor who enjoys the sound of flesh and hope breaking under their hands.

You made me question everything about myself. You made me see shadows where there were none, convinced me that I was unworthy of attention, unworthy of care, unworthy of sight. I pushed away the people who loved me because I believed your whispers over their reality. I let my ambitions falter, my dreams detour, my plans unravel, and I convinced myself it was for you. But the truth? It was for survival—just barely—and I was losing.

I wrestled with my love for you and the loathing I felt for myself—a war you delighted in waging. And every day, I felt smaller, dimmer, like a candle suffocating in a relentless wind. I begged you to catch me, to lift me, to be the person I once believed in. But you smirked. You let me fall, you counted every misstep as your victory, and then you demanded I forgive the things only you did. You judged every choice I made, every choice I didn’t make, according to the twisted calculus of your control. You were the reason survival felt like an impossible act.

It was almost too late. I was teetering on the edge of myself, tangled in the darkness you created. I almost became unrecognizable, and I almost allowed your venom to redefine my worth completely. And then—you unveiled yourself. Not with honesty, not with courage, but theatrically, using others as extensions of your manipulations. You tried to lie to everyone I hold dear, to spin the story so that I appeared unhinged, ungrateful, undeserving, while you remained untarnished in the eyes of the world. You tried to protect your image while I walked away, bleeding pieces of myself behind me, refusing to crumble entirely but still scarred.

And yet—I am grateful. Strange, but true. You showed me the shape of what friendship should never be, and in doing so, you illuminated what a true friend actually is: someone who lifts you, celebrates you, believes in you, even when you falter. You are none of those things. And I see it with piercing clarity now. You are everything I feared you were, and everything I must never allow myself to mistake again.

So here I am, writing this, raw and trembling, clawing my way back to myself. I am reclaiming my narrative, my worth, my eyes, my voice. I will not let anyone, especially you, define the boundaries of my life, the measure of my love, or the shape of my joy. I am still here—whole, bruised, angry, but not defeated. And I carry this lesson forward, indelibly etched into me: I deserve better, always. I deserve honesty, loyalty, care, and the kind of friendship that nurtures rather than destroys.

You were the mirror that showed me all I should never accept. And for that, somehow, I thank you. Thank you for being the opposite of what I need, for teaching me through absence, betrayal, and cruelty what love and friendship should be. Thank you for the clarity, harsh as it is. You will never understand, and that is exactly how it should be.

I am learning to stand again, to breathe again, to see myself clearly again. And I will not forget. I will not forgive what you were, but I will honour what I am becoming.