The Sacred Oath of un-Hurt

I can almost see the words spewing out of my mouth before I can even stop and think about them first. The strange combination of anger, unchecked emotion, and a spiritual exhaustion that can only come from years of bottling everything up. Accusations come flying out, and my unjust unappreciation takes centre-stage. The messages become muddled into one long torrent of bitterness. They cease to make sense, cease to even be true, but what do I care-- I just want their crushing impact to be felt.
How could you look someone in the eye who you love and deliver stab after stab to their soul? Simple: by consciously trying to avoid listening to the own vile messages escaping your mouth.
How could you pretend their quickly appearing tears mean nothing, instead choosing to dismiss them as reflections of your own hurt and angst?
Most importantly, how could you bear the weight of defeating one of the only people in the world who's ever cared for you. The person who has had your back, even when you found yourself spineless. The person who watched from afar, but never too far, allowing you to be who you are, and then loving you for it.
How could you betray the most sacred oath made in a relationship between two broken people who found in eachother their own missing pieces: the promise you each took never to do to eachother what others had already done far too often...

How do you regain the sense of lost love and trust, if you ashamedly cower in your own solitude, trying in vain to convince yourself that you don't need them anyway...