I still can't believe I did that

Okay, Sacred Posts, here goes nothing. I need to get this off my chest, and I don't know who else to tell. It's been eating me up for years. Years, you hear me? It's not like I murdered someone or anything, but it feels like I killed a part of myself. Or maybe… maybe a part of *him*.

It was… well, let’s just call him ‘Mark.’ Mark was the kind of guy everyone loved. Big goofy smile, always ready to help, just genuinely *good*. And he loved me. Like, really loved me. I was… I don’t know, probably 23? Still figuring things out, still kinda selfish. He was older, maybe 28? Had his life together. Had a good job, a nice apartment, wanted to settle down. The whole deal. And I wanted… excitement, I guess. Or maybe I was just scared. Scared of commitment, scared of… happiness? I don’t even know. I'm still trying to figure it out.

We were together for two years. Two really good years. We traveled, we laughed, we supported each other. He was my rock when my mom got sick. He held my hand when I bombed an audition. He just… *understood* me. He knew all my quirks, my insecurities, everything. And he still loved me. God, he loved me so much.

But then… then I met someone else. I hate even typing this. His name was… 'Jake.' Jake was the opposite of Mark in every way. He was edgy, mysterious, a bit of a rebel. He played in a band. He wore leather jackets. He was… exciting. Dangerous, maybe. He was *everything* Mark wasn’t.

I know, I know. It's the oldest cliché in the book. But I fell for it. Hard. I started spending more time with Jake, telling Mark I was working late or meeting up with friends. Lies. All lies. I justified it to myself. I told myself that Mark and I were in a rut, that we needed a break, that I deserved to be happy. The stupid things we tell ourselves to excuse our shitty behavior.

It went on for weeks. Weeks of sneaking around, of lying to Mark’s face, of feeling like the worst person in the world. And then… well, then I slept with Jake. It was awful. Not the sex, necessarily (though that wasn't great either), but the *feeling*. The guilt. The shame. It was like a punch to the gut.

The next day, Mark asked me to marry him. I swear to God, I almost passed out. He got down on one knee, with a ring, the whole shebang. I started crying. Not happy tears. The kind of ugly, snotty tears that come from deep, deep shame.

I said yes. I don't know why. Maybe I thought I could fix things. Maybe I thought I could bury the truth and move on. Maybe I was just a coward.

But I couldn't. The guilt was too much. It was eating me alive. I couldn't look Mark in the eye. I couldn't stand the thought of marrying him knowing what I had done. A week later, I told him. I confessed everything. I told him about Jake, about the affair, about the lies.

He didn't yell. He didn't scream. He just looked at me. A long, slow, agonizing look of… disappointment. That look will haunt me forever.

He asked me why. I didn't have an answer. I just said I was sorry. Over and over and over. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. It didn't help.

He gave me back the ring. He told me to leave. And I did. I walked out of his apartment and out of his life. And I never saw him again. I heard through mutual friends that he moved away a few months later. Started a new job, a new life. I hope he's happy. I really do. He deserves to be.

I’ve tried to move on too. I dated other people. I got a better job. I traveled the world. But it’s always there. That little voice in the back of my head reminding me of what I did. Reminding me that I betrayed someone who loved me unconditionally. Reminding me that I broke his heart.

I never told anyone this story before. Not my friends, not my family, not even my therapist (until recently). It's just too… ugly. Too shameful. But I needed to say it. I needed to get it out there. Maybe someone will read this and learn from my mistakes. Maybe someone will understand. Or maybe I'll just feel a little bit lighter.

I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. But I hope, someday, I can forgive myself. I hope I can learn to live with the guilt. I hope I can become a better person.

I still think about Mark sometimes. I wonder where he is, what he's doing, if he ever thinks about me. I hope he found someone who loves him the way he deserves to be loved. And I hope he's happy. Truly happy. Because I know I’ll never be the same. I’ll never be that innocent, carefree person I was before. I carry this with me now. A constant reminder of my failure. I just… I just hope he’s okay.

God, I messed up so bad.