The Ugliness After Being Cheated On
There’s this kind of ugliness no one really talks about the one that creeps in after you’ve been cheated on. It’s not the kind you can hide with cologne or fix with a new haircut. It’s deeper. It clings to you. You feel it when you wake up and when you try to fall asleep. You feel it when you look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back.
I don’t look like myself anymore. My eyes look tired, like the light in them went out. My smile feels fake. Forced. I touch my face and wonder if she ever touched him the way she used to touch me. If she whispered to him the same sweet things she once swore were only for me. And the worst part? I still remember every word. Every moment. While she moved on like I never existed.
The betrayal isn’t just about what she did .it’s about what she took. My trust. My softness. My sense of worth. Suddenly, I’m second-guessing everything about myself. Was I not enough? Was I too much? Too emotional? Too quiet? Too trusting? I start tearing myself apart, looking for reasons, like maybe if I find the flaw, I can understand why I was left.
Being replaced... that’s a pain I never knew existed. It’s not just heartbreak , it’s humiliation. It’s feeling like trash someone threw away for something shinier. It makes you feel like a ghost in your own skin.
But maybe, this feeling isn’t ugliness at all. Maybe it’s just pain in its rawest form. And maybe one day, I’ll look in the mirror and see someone strong. Not someone who was left behind, but someone who survived.
There’s this kind of ugliness no one really talks about the one that creeps in after you’ve been cheated on. It’s not the kind you can hide with cologne or fix with a new haircut. It’s deeper. It clings to you. You feel it when you wake up and when you try to fall asleep. You feel it when you look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back.
I don’t look like myself anymore. My eyes look tired, like the light in them went out. My smile feels fake. Forced. I touch my face and wonder if she ever touched him the way she used to touch me. If she whispered to him the same sweet things she once swore were only for me. And the worst part? I still remember every word. Every moment. While she moved on like I never existed.
The betrayal isn’t just about what she did .it’s about what she took. My trust. My softness. My sense of worth. Suddenly, I’m second-guessing everything about myself. Was I not enough? Was I too much? Too emotional? Too quiet? Too trusting? I start tearing myself apart, looking for reasons, like maybe if I find the flaw, I can understand why I was left.
Being replaced... that’s a pain I never knew existed. It’s not just heartbreak , it’s humiliation. It’s feeling like trash someone threw away for something shinier. It makes you feel like a ghost in your own skin.
But maybe, this feeling isn’t ugliness at all. Maybe it’s just pain in its rawest form. And maybe one day, I’ll look in the mirror and see someone strong. Not someone who was left behind, but someone who survived.
