You taught me so much I wish I hadn't learned.
You taught me that caring is weakness, that trust will be betrayed, that vulnerability will be preyed upon.
You taught me to hide, to guard, to pretend instead of letting people see, instead of sharing how I feel.
You taught me to doubt, you taught me to be wary, cautious, and mistrusting.
You taught me that good things can't last, that people will let you down, will choose their own comfort over others safety.
You taught me that love is a liability. A contest, a battle with winners and losers, a costume, an illusion to use for your own gain and then toss away.
You taught me to hate myself, to never see the good and to focus on my faults.
I'm unlearning all of these lessons.
One by one.
I'm learning to replace them with my own experiences - to give people the chance, to give myself more chances, to prove you wrong.
Your lessons are not true. Your teachings are false. And you don't have the power to make me believe any more lies.