part-copied from an earlier thread but still true:
No more running back to the house after I'd left it in the morning to double, triple check that I'd put the bins out / wiped the surfaces / whatever, in case I hadn't and he yelled at me. No more being judged constantly for every single little thing. No more being looked at with complete hatred for just existing.
No more coming home to find that he'd made a complete war landscape of the kitchen cooking one of his pointless 'fancy' meals for a friend, but not tidied it up ofc. (If I did the same, I'd never hear the end of it).
No more questioning my sanity bc he lied so much about everything, from the smallest pointless shit to really enormous stuff.
No drama, no eggshells, no anxiety from being around someone who assumes everyone is out to get them. No more making myself smaller and smaller and quieter and quieter; no more being so on edge constantly that I hadn't even noticed it until he was gone.
No more hearing him brag to his friends and people he wanted to impress about this amazing thing he'd done, when I knew what absolute bullshit those stories were. No more being bored to shit by his pointless, half-baked opinions on music, politics, veganism, AI, etc etc.
House is actually tidier, lovelier, I can actually relax in it. Being able to get a nice takeaway (with meat in!), eat it in front of a film of my choice (trashy/arthouse, just not another bloody Marvel thing), pet my new cat (he hated cats), lie on the sofa in the evening light reading on my kindle, bliss bliss bliss.