An Answer

"I thought I was feeling him express love, but what do I know? Having never been in a loving relationship before him, maybe I just saw what I wanted to see and called it his love for me. After all, there were times when I thought Robin was expressing love, when he was really expressing dominance. What do I know? I'm probably never going to know the answer to that either."

I think I have an answer. I think it's true that I'll never know if someone really loves me. Not really - you can't get into their head and hear their thoughts, you can't really know. But it's something I can know on faith and with trust. Do I have faith that he loved me? I want to. I used to. I want to believe that again, but the lie has made me question everything. How am I ever going to know when it's not a lie? More faith. More trust.

And that trust has been demolished.

Gods, this would be so much easier if I could just hate him. I don't. I love him still. Maybe it would hurt less if that would just go away, if I could suddenly stop loving him and just hate him. I know that's not possible. I think I'm glad of it, really. Not of the pain that I can't make go away, but I'm glad of loving him still. That, at least, I know was true.


It wasn't like that with Robin. [And before any of you start, I am NOT comparing Jack to Robin, but more the experience of the feelings of one relationship of mine to another. Jack and Robin are like apples and tires, both are round (or in this case, male) but similarities end there. And I happen to be allergic to tires.] What I thought was love was a belief that a skillful manipulator put into my head that I had better be happy with what I had, because that was all I deserved and the best I would ever get. Then I dropped him, realized I did deserve better, and sought to find it.

I thought I had found it, and I did, except for that lie that I just didn’t see. In the grand scheme of things, that little lie was nothing compared to what I have had to endure before it. Maybe that’s why I’m not angry, and I don’t hate him, and I still have hope. At the very least, I have hope for him if not for me. I hope that the man I love finds what or who makes him happy. That is completely independent of me.