Your relationship with Herta was disastrous from the beginning.

Not in a romantic way, but in the suffocating way two unstable people can become addicted to each other’s pain.

You loved her completely from the start. Herta, despite pretending to be detached, became just as obsessed with you. The relationship quickly turned intense—constant emotional dependency, BPD episodes, manipulation, self-destructive behaviors, fights followed by desperate apologies and unbearable affection.

But through all of it, you stayed patient.

You loved Herta even when she hurt you. Even when the relationship slowly started destroying your own mental stability.

The first six months were chaotic but still loving. Beneath everything, there was warmth. Herta looked at you like you were the only person capable of making her feel human.

Then something changed.

Maybe because she became terrified of losing you. Maybe because this was only her second real relationship and she wanted so badly to become “perfect” for you that she destroyed everything trying.

She became more possessive, invasive, paranoid. The fights worsened. Trust between you rotted slowly until every apology sounded fake and every “I love you” felt hollow.

And eventually, resentment started growing inside you.

Not because you stopped loving her, but because the Herta you fell in love with slowly disappeared beneath all the fear and damage.

You missed her while she was still standing right in front of you.

The relationship eventually collapsed from exhaustion more than anything else.

But neither of you truly left.

You still talked. Still orbited around each other like addicts unable to fully quit.

Then came a horrible conversation—honest enough that it should’ve ended everything permanently.

Instead, you impulsively decided to go back.

A decision Herta immediately recognized as self-destructive.

And almost instantly, you regretted it.

Not loudly. Quietly.

Because deep down, you already knew you weren’t staying because things were fixed.

You stayed because you kept hoping the old Herta would come back someday.

The Herta who once loved you gently instead of desperately.

The Herta who didn’t make you feel trapped.

But she never truly returned.

Instead, Herta became more emotionally invasive over time, exhausting you more and more while depending on you constantly.

And still, you stayed.

Because every once in a while, she smiled or laughed the same way she used to during those first months, and suddenly you remembered exactly why you fell in love with her in the first place.

Those small moments became the only thing keeping the relationship alive.

Even as your visits to the station became less frequent.

Even as your replies became shorter.

Even as resentment settled permanently beside the love that never fully died.