This is so bad that everywhere I look,  everywhere I go, every person I listen to, reminds me of this deep, deep, regrettable disaster. I swear.

Social media? A close friend mentions a certain someone.

Radio? A quick interview with a fucking policeman.

Family and friends? Sure, I’d love to listen to their chalet plans.

Who knows, I might even bump into someone anytime soon. After all, the world is a small place.

Changing a phone number was a joke, to me at least. All of these dickheads (I shouldn’t say dickheads, this is what possibly made them attractive, maybe) all have and use social media handles. And there was some sort of interaction. If that is still the same, then a mere phone number change isn’t a big deal. But if it makes her feel better, then yeah why not.

Just imagine for a second here. The fucking animal that fucked your wife in a chalet – I don’t even know what the theme was, bitchy, love, quickie, lust .. fuck. – has contacted her just a few months back. And I for one, have reason to believe that there was a high chance that she has read what he sent. Oh and it wasn’t the first time he’s tried to. This means, that he still has feelings. Imagination. Fuck he might even have pictures of her and looks at them every now and then. But sure yeah, let me just be normal again. It is just something that happened a few years back, nothing more nothing less.

It makes me sick seeing how much she tries to simplifies that.

This is deeper than any soul can imagine. At least with me. The problems of her past are my problems now, as her present and future problems are. Moreover, when this black past rises in different ways every now and then, it makes me to some point responsible.

I swear I laugh whenever I hear “this has nothing to do with you” and “it happened before I knew you”, yeah shut up. Shut the fuck up.


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