I went back to my old habits.
Like nothing had changed.
Like nothing had mattered.
I found myself again in something I knew was wrong.
With a married man.
A man with children.
A man twenty years older than me.
We kept seeing each other.
And the truth is…
he disgusted me.
Everything about it disgusted me.
The fact that he had a family.
That somewhere, someone trusted him…
while he was there with me.
But maybe that's what I wanted.
To punish myself.
To run away from reality.
To fall even deeper into something that would destroy me.
And it worked.
One night, everything went too far.
He suggested recording.
I refused immediately.
Fear hit me instantly.
What if someone saw it?
What if everything came out?
He insisted.
"It's just the body," he said. "No face."
I hesitated…
but then I gave in.
"Fine… just don't show my face."
At some point, I turned.
And in that second… I saw it.
He was filming everything.
My face included.
I froze.
I felt a kind of fear I had never felt before in my life.
I jumped up, demanding that he delete it.
He acted confused.
Said he didn't record anything.
Said I was paranoid.
That I didn't trust him.
But how could I trust him?
A man who could betray his own family…
what would stop him from betraying me?
We deleted it.
At least… that's what he showed me.
But even now, I don't know if it's really gone.
And that thought still haunts me.
Because if it ever comes out…
it would destroy everything.
He left after that.
Angry.
Accusing me of being crazy.
Paranoid.
Like I was the problem.
Later, I even messaged him again.
Asking if it was really deleted.
Begging, almost.
He said it was.
But I couldn't believe him.
That night…
that feeling…
I will never forget it.
I felt small.
Humiliated.
Broken.
And for the first time…
I truly hated myself.
And even after all that…
I still couldn't stop.
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