Sometimes, Home is a Person. Sometimes, Parole is Self-Granted.

I roamed around the place, seeping on my newfound freedom.
Imprisoned for the longest time, my way out was never granted.
Every time I wanted an out, a 'letter of apology' always came through, late - with excruciating choice of words that grew my hatred towards apologies.

It was the end of the night, you hesitated for a bit before saying
"I've seen something, the one who sent you countless of letter of apologies has written, about you" you looked at me with concern "You're portrayed as the villain, a one-man villain in thier public pity-party."

Silence filled the room.

"Did they went into details about their share of faults too?" I asked.

"Not at all." 

"Did they acknowledge they have always been the perpetrator, from the very beginning? Or, or how desperate, how countless of times they begged and begged for me to accept those letters?"

"Neither that."

"I see"

And there I was, in the brink of anger.

As if it wasn't enough they made roundabout within my surroundings, my family member, my career, my friends, only for it to backfire at them, because people are questioning thier state of mind, reported all the he-saids she-saids to me.

 "Did you see what they did?" 

or 

"Their action reeks desperations" 

or "I instantly knew what happened, so I am telling you" 

which I brushed aside saying "It doesn't concern me" to them - I stayed silent through it all.

After trying to leave you multiple times, we were in agreement to move onto different paths, exactly what I have been wanting from the moment I rejected the last 'letter of apology'. 

Finally.
But nevertheless, from what had been happening, should come as a surprise to me that you have always been a pathological liar.

I did not find the need to overly flaunt my happiness, my newfound freedom, my contentment with the right person - I was more than happy, privately.
Secure and happy.
Keeping it all shut, focused on rebuilding what's left on me, what you broke.

You try to flaunt so much, desperate to make me see, to reach out to me, showing the act you put even when I cut you off.  People make joke out of your terrible slam poetries and horrible lack of personality. 

But you were shameless, you did not just stop there.

You stoop so low, selling sob stories wiping out your share of guilt, contradicting your own desperate words and actions, and making disgustingly pathetic fake profiles to stalk and harass my surrounding. 

So pathetic that people starts telling me; whoever is now in a relationship with you, must have done a pretty terrible job of being enough.

I was disgusted - but I saw this pattern already. You did to me what you did to your ex, and your other ex before that. Gaslighting your partner the same way you did to me, and to all the women before me. 

Make the current hate the previous one, and the next would hate on the current; same made up story, same abuse.

But of course, at first, I was angry.
Angry that my peace is being disturbed.
My peace of mind I had been fighting to have.
Angry that I thought it was the end of it all.

"You see, you have two options, either you forgive them - which we both know now their apology was never sincere, or forgive yourself, for letting yourself be in that position - I couldn't care less about your past nor judgement passed onto you, but this is affecting you and soon enough, us." 

My lover told me one night.

I paused my mourns, wiped my tears.

 "I am happy with you. I happy, growing, planning, moving forward." I said, laced with anger.

"Now the thing is, it's very clear, you are happy, but they are not - and people know it, hence them telling you"  calmly, you reason with me.

"I am tired. I was painted a saint for staying, but suffocated like all the woman before me - then suddenly, I was the villain for leaving. If I was truly vile, then why begged for me everytime I wanna leave? " My voice started to crack.

My heart was laced with anger, face laced with water droplets. 

"What can you expect from an insane, pathological liar?" you came closer "Desperate to find ways to you, to get your attention. Making stage full of delusion, begging for people to listen to lies about you, then harassing you, me, us. That's effort, and it shows how pathetic they are. Not at your level, not at our level." 

I was quiet. 

"You shouldn't be affected, you don't need to stoop to their level. Now you're hurt - this is affecting you, and eventually affect us.  Get this, it's not about your past - I couldn't give to shit. But now you're hurt." 

Still looking at me, you continued 

"I knew it was bad, but watching and reading what they say, I tried to digest it, and it felt truly like bunch of delusional teenagers seeking attention.  I know how truly bad it was now. I still don't know what exactly would hurt you, what would trigger you, if I say or do something in the future that remind you of what they did? Those kind of things will affect us, so, please, for us, okay? Let me know what should I do." 

Tears started flooding out again.
You wrapped yourself around me.
I became just ever so slightly, less hysterical.

"Everyone they contacted all backed off, and went to you instead, questioning their sanity. People said she's acting weird, and they know those stories are all fabricated for self gain. That is sick.  You asked for no further contact, yet look at them. Desperate and low." 

You convinced me. Soothed me.

"Baby, I am so, so, so tired" I repeated " They disgusts me. They disgust me." 

There I was, completely ran out of fuel. Motionless. Whispering. 

"We don't know when they will stop. They're shameless and low.  They don't care about you. You ex is desperate for ways to talk to you, about you, and unfortunately for the new girlfriend, she is just a stupid tool. Who would feed their partner obsession for their ex? It's a literal "Fuck you, you're not enough" in her face"

"So let's focus on you. You're scared. You're hurt. You're frightened. You need time to heal. She's nothing, not important, doesn't matter if she'll waste her time doing this. You need to be okay first, alright, darling? It's about you now."

"I hated who I was, who I turned out to be. I hated all the choices I made to survive - and most importantly I hate my ex and how I was taken for granted." my words were still heavily laced with rage, and pain.

That lowlife destroys people yet still very deluded about playing victim. My colleagues, my surrounding, my family, all came to me questioning why I had been carrying this burden for "my attention seeking ex". Blamed their failure in studying on circumstances, yet institution after institution, still a loser. Blamed their work life on me, yet people come at me complaining about their terrible work ethic. Telling me their psychiatrist loved and trusted them, only for me to heard it myself "You keep their meds, they can't be trusted with anything". That was it. Once I heard what the psychiatrist said, I know they're doomed and I had been lying to - like everyone else, they even lied to themselves and believe it."

Cold silent.
Your fingers ran through my hair.

We went silent. 

From time to time I would continue pouring all the hatred and curses I had kept for so long. 

You were paying attention. 

I would went silent again, at times trying to calm my spike of anxiety. 

You were there, and I felt seen and heard for something I had been running from.

"Now, let's figure out ways for you to heal. I will be there, through every single steps. For you, for us, okay? About you. What can we do for you?"

Right there, I realized maybe there is a silver lining in this monstrosity  after all.
In your voice, I found no judgement.
In your voice, I found genuine concern.
Fear? Definitely. Questions? Without a doubt.
But not a single trace of hesitation.

"I didn't have time to heal. I kept it - I don't know where to start. I didn't even know the pain was still there" I pushed you aside, a bit, to get a clearer glimpse of your figure. Still stubborn in my choice of words, full by anger.

"You're happy now, true, but the pain they inflicted, you can't pretend it's not there. You have to admit that it hurts, admit that the pain is there. First, let's do that." you paused "Find where you've been hiding the pain - you owe this to yourself."

I owe this to me too. I owe this to myself. I repeat the sentence in my heart.

"You need to start forgiving yourself, the relationship was a mistake, not on you, but you were unfortunately trapped in it. So forgive you, for you - for us, too, in the long run" you paused "Because I want us in the long run too."

Me too. I want us too in the long run. 

"I don't know how" I said.

"Neither do I. " you continued softly, "So let's figure it out. I will be there, for you. Until you've healed. Until you're fixed. I promise, okay?"

- 

Little by little after that day, I've learnt that parole doesn't always come from a second party.
Expecting a sincere apology from someone who never truly feel sorry for their damage, the biggest forgiveness I owe was to myself.

Filled with rage and paranoia - I want to drag everyone through hell where I had to fight my way out back then.
I was humiliated, taken for granted, lied to, and repeatedly blamed for somebody else's incapacity to be human.
Doesn't matter how fragile or tough I had been, I was destroyed - and yet you stood there, looking at my far from perfect, wounded being, with nothing but love.
Now I understand why it didn't work out before you.