I think my empathy got to me.

I promised a story. A story I have written. But, I think my empathy got to me.

My salacious story about my ex boyfriend. Jerry.

He is the only character that I write about or have written about. I told him when I saw him that he, “was like a cancer in my brain that I just can’t get out.” And it’s true.

Though, the prolific character I write about is me.

Jerry, to me, is like a childhood home, that I can go back to and see myself through stages, memories. To remember who I was and most importantly, how far I have come. Jerry is also someone that I deeply admire and wish I could possess some of the traits he has, of course, mixed with my brain.

The way my recent amends panned out with Jerry was satisfying for me. I was given the space to say sorry. I was able to say all the things that have been on my mind for years. I went in with no expectations, because I knew I would be let down.

Following our meeting, insanity, “normalcy” for some *cough, cough*, ensued.

At the time, I thought, “Wow! This is absolutely crazy and unbelievable. I cannot believe this same reality is being played out again. Nothing has changed.” This reality was my old story. A story of lies and deceit and insanity. It was unbelievable to me, because it showed ME how much I have grown. How much I have changed. How much my old “normalcy” was unfathomable to me. How much self love I have actually have for myself, because I would never accept this now. Most importantly, it cemented for me that I was not the cause of chaos in my life back then. I was most definitely a willing participant, but I was not the master mind. I could never have done more, loved more, accepted more, to get the relationship to be healthy or how I envisioned it. It showed me that although I have a tendency to romanticize the past, because I have a seriously amazing trauma blocker, that Jerry had remained much of the same; rooted in fear.

I have been on the fence about publishing the full story.

Although, I do feel it is illuminating and I know it could serve to help others. I also do feel for Jerry. He sent a snarky message, to which I replied and has gone unanswered, telling me, “he wouldn’t have met with me if he knew I was going to turn it into another story.”

Despite the way I write or depict my truth in my stories, which are about my life, I have nothing but love and respect for Jerry. I mean it. I said it straight to his face. I said, “no matter what you do or who you are, I will always love you.” And thats the fucking truth.

I have no attachment to him or needs met from him.

So with that, how do I write a story about him? How do I reconcile judging someone else’s journey, although slower than mine, who am I to judge it? How do I criticize lying and fear in someone else’s life, when its not mine? How do I put in the spotlight, a girl I have never met, but know better than she can even comprehend?

How do I tell my story, my truth, without telling the whole truth? My empathy has me on the fence. I am hoping to find a way, perhaps a time, to share this story.

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