for a long time i carried a silence around my ex like a heavy cloak, a shield against judgment and pity. i believed that talking about him would somehow reflect poorly on me, as if his actions were a measure of my worth. the memory of his betrayal felt like a stain on my heart, something best hidden away, locked in the depths of my thoughts.

it took time to realize that there was no shame in trusting someone i loved. love is a leap of faith, a journey into vulnerability where trust blossoms like a delicate flower. when i opened my heart to him, i wasn’t naïve or foolish; i was brave. i chose to believe in the goodness of his intentions, in the sincerity of his words.

but when that trust was shattered, it felt like the ground beneath me crumbled. questions swirled in my mind like a storm: was i not enough? did i miss the signs? was it my fault?

in the midst of this turmoil, it became clear my friends didn’t understand. i withdrew into myself and i don’t think they even noticed. leaving me utterly alone during the worst time in my life. i was still reeling from my dad’s passing and i was not ready nor capable to process another loss. without support, i felt stranded, unable to share my pain. i didn’t want their pity or judgment. so, i buried it deep within, pretending it didn’t exist, painting on a smile when all i wanted to do was scream. lonely wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how i felt in that time. the loneliness was suffocating, a constant reminder of my isolation.

it took time, months turning into years, before i found the courage to confront my silence. i realized that my ex’s actions were a reflection of him, not of me. i was not defined by his choices. i had loved fiercely and completely, and that was something to cherish, not hide away.

slowly, i began to speak about him, about us, about the lessons learned through tears and heartache. i discovered that vulnerability is not weakness but strength. it is in sharing our stories, our struggles, and our triumphs that we find connection and healing.

today, i no longer carry that silence like a burden. instead, i wear my story with pride, a testament to resilience and the unwavering belief in love. trusting someone, even if it ends in betrayal, is not a flaw but a testament to the depth of our hearts and the courage to keep loving despite the risks.

and i’ve realized something else: it’s often the worst men that i write the best. the ones who hurt me, who left scars on my heart, they inspire the most profound reflections. their actions, while painful, push me to explore the depths of my emotions and transform that pain into art. there’s power in taking the hurt they caused and molding it into something beautiful and meaningful.

there is no shame in trusting the person you love. it is in the giving of ourselves that we truly live, learning and growing from every experience, even the ones that leave us broken for a while.

the worst men, they leave the best stories, and maybe that’s their only redeeming quality.