Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice
And she said, "We are all just prisoners here of our own device"

And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before

"Relax, " said the night man, "We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave"

“Once, during the drinking phase, Wendy had accused him of desiring his own destruction but not possessing the necessary moral fiber to support a full-blown deathwish. So he manufactured ways in which other people could do it, lopping a piece at a time off himself and their family.”

To the PA (Ed: "porn addict") who loves his partner but has shattered her world,

If you are here, lurking in this [forum], searching for answers, maybe even for hope, I need you to read this carefully. Because this is what it feels like to be me, the person who trusted you, loved you, stood by you, only to be blindsided by deception over and over again.

Betrayal trauma is not just sadness. It is not just anger. It is a complete rewiring of my brain, a deep, physical shock to my system. It is waking up every morning with a pit in my stomach, a constant hum of anxiety in the background of my life. It is questioning everything, every moment, every word, every touch. It is looking back at our memories and wondering how many of them were real. It is realizing that the man I thought I knew, the man I felt so deeply connected to, was living a double life right in front of me.

I did not just lose trust in you. I lost trust in myself, in my own instincts, in my ability to feel safe and loved. Do you know what that does to a person? Do you even begin to understand the weight of that?

You say you love me. But love is not just words or grand gestures or booking trips. Love is protection. Love is honesty. Love is making choices that keep me safe, even when they are hard. And you did not do that. Not once. Not when we first met, not when we built a life together, not when I gave you chance after chance. Every time you chose secrecy, every time you minimized or withheld the truth, you made a choice that pushed me further away. And now, you are standing here, asking me to believe that this time is different. That this time you really mean it.

I want to believe you. God, I want to believe you so badly. But do you understand how hard that is when you have rewritten our entire history with your lies?

Your addiction, your secrecy, your inability to face the full weight of what you have done, it has changed me. I will never be the same woman I was before all of this. The carefree, trusting, deeply in-love version of me, you broke her. And maybe you did not mean to. Maybe you were too lost in your own shame, your own self-loathing, your own compulsions to truly see what you were doing. But intentions do not undo damage.

So if you are here, lurking, searching for proof that redemption is possible, let me tell you what I need. I need absolute honesty. Not half-truths. Not omissions. Not damage control when you are caught. I need to know that you can sit with your shame, face your failures, and still choose me over your own fear of discomfort. I need to know that you understand what you have done to me, not just that you feel guilty, but that you get how deeply this has wounded me. I need to see actions, not just hear words.

Because right now, I am holding the last frayed threads of my patience. And if you truly want to rebuild, to prove to me that you are more than the sum of your worst choices, you need to meet me at my pain. Not run from it, not hide behind excuses, not make this about your struggle alone.

If you love me, truly love me, prove it. Because this time, words will never be enough. The patience and empathy I have shown you so far would have been enough for a lifetime under normal circumstances. Carve that in your mind.