trauma copypasta

What they don't tell you about the sacred tradition of t4t relationships is that eventually you will be unemployed enough and mentally ill enough that your supposed life partner will go do the Gen Z version of U-Haul lesbians with a 28-year-old copy of herself with a nicer version of your car and you'll say you're okay with it but you won't be and it won't be your fault but it will be and she stopped wearing your ring on her index finger when you started acting weird even though you asked her if she'd always wear it and now you have to pay one of your friends a few hundred dollars to play her brother's wedding ceremony in your place

and everyone says, remember your worth, it comes from yourself and no one else, but they don't know that even when you were very very bad, the only good part of you was her, and when you were very very good she still knew the part of you that was ugly, which is all of you, now, because she's beautiful and happier than she'd ever been with you, and there's no doubt that you're the loser, obsolete, obsessed over your own insignificance and trumped-up trauma, and you're not listening to sad songs because you want to be insufferable but instead because you don't have the right to pretend to sway capacity upward, outward, onward, through, and you're petulant recalcitrant erudite emetic who never went out by yourself anyway, so you won't start now, because all the places she went with you are the better woman's now, and you're just

lucky you don't know her last name and lucky you shrink back as if burned every time she tried to make you see her and lucky you're the loser, simple loser, stripped of consequence and so on, lucky you found out now instead of any later as if resilience will be maturity's gift and not a cruel-thrusted accident, just like you, feeble bitter bread-breaker in the inhospitable attic of all-intemperate clime who can't do anything else but copy and paste your inadequacy over each burnt-crusted day of the humid future, like decrepit death by trash.