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Betrayal

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People call betrayal a stab to the back,
But it's not.
It feels like a pierce, a small, sharp pain in your heart. Your heart is not broken, nor is it cold, but it is damaged. This damage is small. It is damage that, over time, grows. Your heart bleeds, bleeding trust and love and friendship.
As it bleeds it becomes empty.
Empty.
Even when you are surrounded by friends, and when you have others, when you are empty you feel alone.
And that's what betrayal is. What it feels like. It's an infection. It's alive. It feeds. Feeds on happiness and memories. Times had, times lost. It burns if you feel forgiveness, yet guilts when you feel resentment.
Betrayal is not a stab to the back.
Betrayal is personal. Betrayal is born from secrets given away and from fake friends revealed.
To me, betrayal hurts more than heartbreak.
Betrayal is alive, and betrayal grows. You become paranoid and afraid that your loss will grow with it. Who will side with who?
Who agrees with them?
Will I be left alone, all because of this one person, in this one moment?
This is always when I feel tears. When I hear the remarks of disbelief, when the comments of that person's kindness bubbles to the surface.
When I know they'll choose her over me.



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