The Love Ocean I Drowned In.

When I met Levi, everything was planned. Our eyes meeting, us sitting together, the cute conversation we had.

I planned it from the moment I saw him, I was intrigued...I was saying hello to the man that'd bruise me in places no one can point to.

He was so perfect in the beginning, he was like a dream I conjured up and I never wanted to wake up. I was hooked to him like a drug, high off the intoxicating control he had over me.

He never officially asked me to be his girlfriend, he said he loved me on the fourth day, I believed him and that was the beginning of it. I was sure I was in love with him. He made it look like he was too.

I hand wrote him love letters.

Blue pen, shaky hand, heart too big for my own chest.

Every love letter ended the same way—a tiny wave curling in the corner of the page and me telling him I loved him bigger than it. Love ocean is what we called it. I really thought I loved him. I did.

March. I lied. He found out. He was angry. I understood.

He spoke to me like trash, I let it slide because he was angry. My Grandma died the day after our fight, he didn't care, his anger was so much more important. I cried and apologized for hurting. He forgave me. I should've left. I stayed.

Love ocean.

April came and went. We fought over and over and I noticed he was never at fault, even when his reaction was extreme. I was always the problem. He would emotionally manipulate me. I wanted to leave. I needed to.

I stayed.

What kind of person leaves when things aren't rosy?

"Relationships aren't a bed of roses or what you see on Tiktok" he said

I agreed. I was here for it all.

Love ocean.

May. Less fights. More realization. He ruined my self esteem. I tiptoed around everything. I didn't want to upset him. Never wanted to fight with him. I'd apologize for my feelings, but he'd never do the same for me. I was ready to leave. I mentioned it. He said he loved me.

I stayed.

June. I knew it was about to be over. I was sure of it. I over thought something that should have come easy. It was one post, why didn't I just do it? Something told me not to. I'd later be glad I listened.

We fought about it. He spoke vile words to me. I was so conditioned that I still thought I was the problem.

I cried till I couldn't breathe. Kore and Fatmah held me through it.

Kore later told me that I was so out of it, I cried into his shirt for one full hour till I almost passed out.

I left.

I hated myself. For not being good enough for him. For always causing fights when all he wanted was peace. I hated myself for letting such a good man get away. I'd tell myself that I was unworthy and undeserving of him.

I didn’t start hating myself all at once. It was slow. At first it was little things— apologizing while I was the one crying, shrinking my voice so his temper wouldn’t rise, convincing myself he was only harsh because he cared. Every time he snapped, something in me bent a little. Every time I forgave him, something in me disappeared.

I remember thinking, “maybe he’s right about me.” That was the moment the self-hate stopped whispering and became a voice I believed.

When he was good to me, he was so so so good. The kind of good that makes you forget everything else. He could be tender, thoughtful, almost heavenly — and then, without warning, he’d flip. He was as gentle as he was cruel. He loved me hard and punished me even harder. He’d call me beautiful with the same mouth that called me a stupid woman five minutes before. I never knew which version of him I was getting, only that I would endure both.

And his hands? Sinful. Beautiful. I never wanted him to stop touching me. I'd drown in those cold hands on my body, any day, anytime. I really did love him and I was sure without a doubt he loved me too.

I wrote a substack about him. Poured my heart out too. The self hatred didn't go away. It was part of me. Still is.

I didn’t just lose him; I lost the version of myself that believed love couldn’t kill me.

That should have been the end. It wasn't.

One month later after the break...

Story reply: "What'd you want to eat?"

I was shocked... excited. Somehow after everything, I still wanted us to be friends. We decided to be friends.

One risky text. We were slipping back into familiar waters.

Love ocean.

It didn't feel like before but I knew better. I stopped it. We continued being friends.

Everything had been going well. Friends that occasionally flirt. Friends that casually talked about missing each other. Just friends.

Then there it was, my whole world crashing down before my eyes.

My friend called. Told me the worst thing I'd ever imagined. I couldn't believe it.

He never truly belonged to me.

There was always another, and another, and another, and another, and... another.

The walls caved in. I couldn't breathe.

Flashbacks of all our months ran through my eyes in seconds. I spent the first day in denial. I laughed about it. I went to sleep, woke up hoping it was all a dream.

It wasn't. The screenshots were still there. Sitting heavy. I screamed.

I cried till my eyes burned and my throat was raw.

Why? Why would he do this to me?

I'd given my everything, I'd given my life to him and he? I was just another one of his many options.

What I didn't understand is why he made it feel so good? He really made me believe in what we had. Made me believe he was solid. He said he loved me EVERYDAY.

Love ocean.

Why? Why? Why?

Why make it feel so...True? How do you do that knowing it's nothing to you?

Maybe that’s the part that breaks me the most — that I loved him with a softness he never learned to hold. I kept choosing him even when it was killing me. I kept swimming back even when the water tasted like salt and regret. And the whole time, he knew. He knew I loved him with everything in me… and he used it anyway.

I HATED MYSELF.

The day after I cried myself to exhaustion, he was saying to her that he needed her and he loved her.

The day I screamed my throat raw, he gave another one money for her birthday.

Those hands? Wrapped around someone else, telling her the same lies he fed me.

Those cold hands I love so much now wrap around my throat tightly pushing me into the cold waters I drew around us.

Love Ocean.

I loved him bigger than the ocean, but he made sure I drowned in it.

Levi is just Evil rearranged because honestly his real name is irrelevant.