The only thing that makes you truly safe from me

“I am not afraid of him. He does not scare me,” she says.

Although I don’t say it, I’m hugely relieved.

I am so thankful that I have finally found someone who knows that he won’t actually harm them. Someone who is comfortable and confident enough in themselves to have his hurtful words and threats wash off them like water and wax, rather than let it penetrate them into a state of hurt and fear.

I can’t tell you how much I need someone like this.

And although I worry a lot of the time, I think that it’s true that he probably won’t ever physically hurt anybody else. Not anybody other than myself, because, through his eyes I am to blame for everything, no matter what. And that’s why I’m terrified of him. Because he can hurt me and he does hurt me – for punishment… for gratification… for whatever damned reason he wants. He has the ability to hurt me because he is me and I am him; we are one.

And when things are so intense – so intense that he wants to hurt somebody else (other than me) so badly – there are enough of us to convince him not to. We do so by diverting the blame to ourselves so that he thinks that we are the ones at fault and deserve the punishment rather than anybody else. We cop the blame and what comes of it for the sake of ourselves. Because when he lashes out inappropriately, it’s not him that receives the consequences of his actions, but us.

We would rather be punished by him for nothing than be punished by society for nothing.


When I look into the future I can only see the present

What is it when you can’t see anything different for yourself for the future? They’ve told me that it’s ‘helplessness’, but is it necessarily? It’s not merely ‘hopelessness’ if it’s actually truth, is it? What if what I’m foreseeing for myself is actually fate? An inevitable, uncontrollable fate?

I’m somewhat removed from reality a lot of the time. I live a life in a delusional world in my head and then I project those delusions into the real world. Sometimes it almost feels as though I walk another dimension apart from everyone else. But I know reality well enough – I’ve touched it and visited it at times, enough, to know that where I am and where I need to be; that who I am and who I need to be; that what I do and what I need to do are places that are poles apart – a travel from one to the other that requires efforts so vast and an eternity in time.

Sometimes when I do the calculations in my head, I’m forced to realise that I don’t actually have the time or the energy to make it to where I need to be. As in, I don’t have the years left in my life to become who/what/where I need to be, nor do I have the fuel to get their.

What do I do? Do I go on even while knowing this? I just can’t bear this forever.

I am the ducking Fevil

Hate hate hate hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehhhhhhhhhhh. Anger so loud and strong and big and    L   O       N        G. And then nice. Something ever so lovely and nice. Love love lovelovelovelovelovelove? Maybe not love. Maybe not hate either.