A thousand I’m sorry’s can never erase the torrential damage inflicted by just a single episode.The scars are forever. You can never be healed. The memories last a lifetime. The harm can never be undone. Even in a moment of reason, he can’t possibly comprehend the vast devastation that slices through your core like a razor sharp guillotine. He’s just not capable of the level of awareness needed to understand the hurt he has caused. The pain is like an Ebola virus ripping through and devouring your hopes, dreams, wishes, and future. The destruction is soul-less and complete. You are empty. Yet, every time you just forgive, pick-up, and keep trying. You move forward and try to begin again. You tell yourself every day to try harder. You can’t give up because that would mean you failed. You, not him. No one can understand your internal pain or the depth of it.You don’t wear it or show it on the outside. Society is visual. If they can’t see it, it doesn’t exist. The mental anguish is qualitative, not quantitative and it’s not something that can be measured. Only you know the severity of what you hold inside. Only you deal with the consequences day to day. You survive by feeling less and less until you shut down. You are just a shadow, not even your own, but his. You are grey. You have no color. You don’t matter. You never did and never will in his world full of him.