Betrayal Trauma: Stabbed With a Smile

Betrayal trauma isn’t just a broken heart.
It’s not some ridiculous Dr.’s note to get you out of responsibilities.
It’s more hard core than the porn your mom made that produced you… (jk, stay with me lol).

It’s being stabbed with a smile.
Like the person holding the knife studied you first,
figured out where it would hurt the most
and twisted it.

It’s like someone broke into your world,
used your trust as the key,
and took everything you built…
everything you were building…
everything you were becoming.

It’s like being awake in a nightmare,
watching it all fall apart,
too stunned to scream.

Mourning a life that should’ve been.
A person that never existed.
A love that lied the whole time.

It’s the numbness that burns,
and the silence that’s loud.

It’s a kind of pain that doesn’t just break you
it rewrites you.
Quietly. Permanently.

There are no words for it,
because it was never just one thing.
It was everything.

It all shattered slowly,
one quiet betrayal at a time.

You wake up one day and realize
the person you loved didn’t just lie to you
they built their comfort on your collapse.

They watched you pour everything
into a life they never planned to keep.

It’s not “he hurt me.”
It’s “he knew.”

It wasn’t an accident.
It was cold. Calculated. Evil.
And they enjoyed it.

They conspired.
Coordinated.
Gossiped.
Laughed.

They rejoiced in your suffering.

Intentionally.
Maliciously.
Methodically.
Executed.

You were never let in on the truth
until the timing was right
for maximum damage and maximum satisfaction.

All while they smiled to your face.
Professed to love you.
Made future plans…
as they bled you dry.

You never had a chance to defend yourself.
They smeared your name
before you could even open your mouth.

Knowingly misrepresented who you are.
Tried to ruin the very foundation of your being
your existence,
your livelihood.

The moment they realized you might speak truth,
they rewrote the story.

First quietly, strategically.
Planting seeds in the minds of people you trusted.

Plotting.
Planning.
Twisting your words.
Resulting to reactive abuse
so later, when you did finally speak,
you’d look like the villain in their script.

The silence that follows feels like it will break you.
You watch yourself function on the outside
while breaking into microscopic pieces underneath.

Your body keeps moving because it has to.
While your soul lays facedown in the wreckage.

You tuck it in.
Tidy up your truth.
Smile with a mouth that tastes like betrayal.
And carry on like a soldier who never enlisted.

Holding a thousand puzzle pieces
from someone else’s game
and they’re all blank.

The human body was never designed
to carry this level of cognitive dissonance.

There’s no closure.
No apology.
Just silence.

Silence from trusting someone too deeply.

He said I love you with a handful of knives.
He didn’t just walk away
he walked away with my tenderness in his back pocket.

My silence, twisted into a weapon he could use later.
My story, still bleeding out,
while he pretended nothing happened.

He didn’t lose me.
He threw me away.

Then threw himself a party with my money,
my things,
my life,
and the lies he told to justify it.

I’m not broken.

I was blindsided.
Betrayed.

But I’m still breathing.

I didn’t just survive him.
I’m becoming undeniable.

This time, he lit a fire he can’t outrun.
With his own words.
His own actions.
His own decisions.
His own hell.

Constantly looking over his shoulder,
scrambling to cover the last lie with the next lie.
Wondering when I’m finally going to reveal it all.

And I am revealing it all.

Because I kept the receipts.
Not because I wanted a way back.
Not to destroy him
he did that to himself.

But because he’s a goddamn idiot.
And it genuinely pleases me
to expose that level of dumbassery.

And more importantly,
to bring awareness and love
to anyone else going through this.

Every gender.
Every culture.
Every generation.

You are not alone.

It will get better.

And if your only satisfaction right now
is picturing yourself sticking your pinky finger
down their peehole
your pinky finger of justice, if you will

just know this:

You’re not alone.
Much love. 🔥✨

-Christina