It’s constantly repeating “my boyfriend cheated on me with one of my best friends from high school” like a silent mantra.
It’s wondering if it really was just because they were drunk.
It’s being glad you know and wishing you didn’t.
It’s hard to believe it’s true, and that it could be happening to you; it had almost felt like a cliché before.
It’s the only thing you think about.
It’s zoning out during conversations, class, spending five minutes washing a dish.
It’s showering more frequently and driving to class so no one, not even your roommate, sees you cry.
It’s feeling nauseous every time he touches you the way he touched her.
It’s the closest thing you’ve ever felt to PTSD or depression.
It’s wanting to talk to someone about it, but not being sure who you can tell because your trust is so shattered.
It’s wanting to explain yourself once you do tell someone, because you feel like they must think you have no self-worth.
It’s feeling embarrassed when you try to explain why you took him back.
It’s blame, it’s seeing good people as shallow for not understanding.
It’s feeling like maybe you’re overreacting; your emotions have never been this strong before and you’ve never felt this in touch with yourself.
It’s feeling like a victim, like you’re the only one feeling this way, even though you know neither of those things are true.
It’s finding out people you wouldn’t expect have been through it too.
It’s being told “it happens” and wondering why this is something that has become normalized.
It’s wondering why no one talks about it.
It’s trying not to let yourself harden.
It’s forgiveness and trying to forget.
It’s loving yourself through it all, and it opens up a new layer of that love.
And whether you choose to stay in your relationship or not, it’s a new beginning.