Don't ever feel bad for making

a decision about your own life 

that upsets other people. You 

are not responsible for their happiness. 

You're responsible 

for your own happiness. 

Anyone who wants you to live

in misery for their happiness 

should not be in your life to 

begin with.

-A thing from Facebook that made sense-

We took a day trip to Cincinnati. 

I drove. 

We had to double back to get his anti-depressants. 

I had to pick him up later than planned because he was still so high. 

We were going to the Newport Aquarium. 

The fish were going to be pretty. 

He yelled at me about my driving. 

I was quiet. 

He apologized and then yelled some more. 

I didn't know where to go. 

He did.

 He showed me. 

Guided me. 

I let him. 

The fish were pretty. 

He was bored. 

He wouldn't let me take pictures. 

I love pictures. 

He went from exhibit to exhibit the way I imagine he does with women.

 Quickly and without much interest. 

We got to pet sharks. 

He was like a child, so excited. 

In that moment I loved him. 

Then we left. 

He complained about the cost. 

He took my keys. 

He wanted to drive. 

I said okay. 

We stopped. 

I reached over to move the wheel to get us off the road. 

He hit me. 

I was silent. 

He apologized and then hit me some more.

I snuck a picture.

Passive. God-Damn Passive, if you will. That is what I was called by my first "boyfriend". He had a lot of other "charming" phrases to go along with this one, but this one was one of the ones that really stuck. What does "Passive" mean? According to Merriam Webster it is "used to describe 

someone who allows things to happen or who accepts what 

other people do or decide without trying to change anything"

But, in the way that he used it? I have no clue. The three months I was with him were the best I ever had and also the worst I ever had-I just didn't realize the latter until later on. Hindsight is 20/20, and it's a bitch. I thought about breaking up with him every single day. But then, every day I would wake up every day to 4-page long text that he had sent me in the middle of the night, (probably while in a drug-induced haze) declaring his love for me- and I was smitten, yet again. When I met him I was pure, innocent and naive. That didn't even last two weeks. By the time he was through, I was impure, dirty and used. Of course, he didn't see anything wrong with this, because it all benefitted him. And that is where my definition of Passive comes in. Passive to me means that 

I 

DIDN'T FUCKING STAND UP FOR MYSELF.

If I had. If I had just taken a stand, said a single word. My story would be very different.