How the fuck she would react if she knew that I could ruin her. Not like the “this would trouble her a lot” ruin her, but the fact that for a couple months I’ve held in my hands the information that could completely destroy this phase of her life. It’s scary to me, to wield so much power. A lot of it is intriguing, because I know that whatever I could do — even this — would never come close to the pain she caused me.
The claim was always that we both hurt each other. That was always the story she told to absolve herself of guilt. It’s so much easier to make me a cohort, an equally responsible partner, even in the business of dealing out sorrow. But that’s not true at all. Because of what she did my life has been fucked up, for what now constitutes as a long time, and things aren’t showing signs of improving in the near future.
The allure of acting on my angst looks pretty nice right now; there’s nothing that pisses me off more than someone getting something they don’t deserve, and the fact that in this case that person is someone who so thoroughly and emotionally wrecked me is functioning as a huge amplifier.
So I sit here, holding in my anger and this incredibly powerful, terrible secret and keep asking myself one question: What’s stopping me?
