With tears in my eyes and my heart pounding, I power-walked into my now-ex girlfriend's house and saw her getting ready to fuck the guy from outside. I tried to say something but I couldn't stop shaking and stuttering, so I just kept my head down and grabbed the gym bag of my stuff before leaving. I could hear them laughing as they took each other's clothes off and I broke down crying. Now I've had to move back with my mum. Remember how my ex got along well with my family? It turns out they got along so well they all took her side, believing her story that I was too "hard to deal with". Every day I sit in my childhood bedroom, held hostage by my brain. If I even try to do anything, it holds me at gunpoint with memories of her. So I just sit, staring near-catatonic at my feed, with my parents occasionally breaking the silence to tell me how pathetic I am.
