When I was moving out on my own what I wanted most of all was for my new life to be airy.
When I was married life was not airy at all. My husband did not like to interact with me. But I wasn’t supposed to interact with anyone else either. He said if I left the house I would get murdered so I stayed at home. Receiving a message from someone or just a random email was the highlight of my week. There were pros and cons to this sort of life.
But now, my life is nothing but messages from strangers. Two hundred a day. What is it called when winds rip people apart until they die with bits of them flying everywhere? That is what’s happening to me.
There are ebay messages, herbal messages, music messages, lawyer messages, messages about wizzles and fizzles, messages from men, messages from women.
Two hundred messages a day and I’m making two hundred dollars a month. This seems off somehow.
My friend made a match.com account as me which I think is hilarious. She pretends to be me and then forwards people she likes to the real me. I like the part where she interacts with them better. I’m too mentally overwhelmed to respond to anyone. Even the people I meet I can hardly remember their names and faces. Hi it’s Chris! Oh yeah, Chris, of course. You build houses. No, I’m the Chris that flies planes. Busy girl.
But I’m not a busy girl. I’m a girl whose brain is being electrocuted with random inputs from all directions. Meanwhile there is nothing solid in my life. I want to visit my dogs again. But if I get arrested there will be no one to bail me out.
Ten thousand winds but nothing solid. No feeling either. The other day I walked by a man who was on the floor with a hurt foot. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.” I said “Oh are you really?” he asked in a relieved voice. “No, I’m joking.” I said with a laugh. Two minutes later reality hits and I realize I sounded like a total psychopath. This will be another black mark added to my reputation of cruelty and violence. But I’m not a psychopath. Everything is just so airy it starts to seem unreal. So many words. So many people. No way to assemble my bookcase because my wrist still doesn’t work from the last time James squirted me over with dishsoap and pushed me into a wall.
Physical Violence is the elephant in my mind. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel or think about it so I don’t.
The first time James got violent I was asking him questions. Specifically questions about his pro-gun stance. While I mostly shared his views, some of his arguments didn’t make sense to me. He had just gotten news of a financial defeat so I should have stayed silent. But at the time I wasn’t good at shutting the fuck up. Eventually I learned, but it didn’t really help.
So he got upset and left the room. I followed him. I was extremely clingy. Later I learned not to be clingy but that didn’t help either. He told me to Go Away and I said No. He said if I didn’t leave he’d fucking crush me and I said go ahead.
Then he pushed me really hard like… I don’t think I understood how strong men are until that moment. I thought they were more or less like me. But it was supernatural. I don’t know what happened except that I ended up on some stairs with my arm cut open from wrist to elbow cause it got caught on the metal door latch.
I guess I was in shock & crying hysterically. James was like a god to me. At the time it seemed like hurting your wife was horrifically wrong. Now it doesn’t seem so wrong to me. But at first it was shocking and I was crying hysterically.
James told me I had to stop crying but I didn’t. He dragged me across the floor and sat on top of me with hands around my neck looking at me with this crazy look in his eyes. I thought he was going to kill me. I was screaming hoping the neighbors would hear me. I screamed for Slippers and she came. Then James got off of me. Later on though Slippers would just run and hide.
Afterwards was even more confusing. Writing about the incident now, I feel like I am a baby for even whining about it but at the time it felt earth shattering. Like I’d entered a new reality and the world as I knew it no longer existed. I thought James would be sorry but he wasn’t. He didn’t seem to think it was a big deal that my whole arm had turned yellow from bruising. If I tried to bring it up what had happened he would say “Well why did you say this? Why did you say that? What did you say 5 sentences before that? You don’t remember? If you can’t even remember then how can we talk about it? What angle were you standing at? What socks were you wearing 3 days earlier? These facts are important.”
There was no remorse just an endless string of questions about details surrounding the day that I couldn’t remember and when I would get frustrated with those questions he said he needed those details to make sense of things. The problem wasn’t him pushing me, it was all these little things I’d said and done which made him push me.
And the following years were all about that. Don’t use this word, use that word. This phrasing is the problem. Stating things as a question is the problem. I would read more and more books about how mens’ minds worked and try to change my tone, my phrasing, my facial expression. None of it helped but I always felt I was on the cusp of knowing what he needed and being able to give it to him.
Later on, maybe 4 or so years later, cheating came into play too. Cheating is the vocalist. It grabs all your attention. Violence is more like bass and drums. It hits you in the reptile centers. That is why I don’t know how to process it or even if it merits processing.
The first time it happened I thought it was a really big deal. Over time it became more commonplace to where I feel like a petty little bitch for writing about it. I don’t know if it matters or not. Why would it matter? People hurt all the time.
I hadn’t seen my dogs for almost 2 weeks because people were telling me it was too dangerous and I could get killed.
But one day I couldn’t take it any longer. As a single person I have friends, but its mental & airy. You miss the vegetable acceptance you can get through family. But Slippers & Patton are more than family. They are forever friends. Missing them was this pain in my heart that wouldn’t go away. I felt like they were calling me.
I’ll never forget the crazy smiles on their faces when I came through the door. We were all barking and crying and running around in circles trying to bite each other. Then James- who had not seemed to be there- called the cops but I didn’t even care. We were outside of time.
I went outside to talk to the police. They said I wasn’t in trouble. I wasn’t breaking the law since it is my house, my dogs and only James has a no contact order on him. But they said they didn’t want to leave me there just in case anything happened so they waited outside to give me 5 more minutes with my dogs & then told James to tell me a next time when I could visit them.
That was today and I just got back from 2 hours of seeing them. First we rejoiced, then we sang our favorite songs- Stand by Me, Fur Angel, Dog Went a Courtin’ & more. Then we had a snack. Then we lounged and stared into space. It was great to vegitate together. It is hard to be a vegetable in solitude. Plus they make me cry with their faithfulness.
Mushrooms were growing in the front yard of the house I used to share with Slippers and Patton. What does this mean?
I don’t place dogs above humans but I don’t place humans above dogs either. They seem very much alike except in how they dress. People keep telling me to get a new dog, but the thing is I have zero interest in dogs as a species. I have an interest in two specific people- Slippers and Patton.
Scorpio is a water sign, which means love and emotion. It is a black 8 turned on its side whose goal is to dig the deepest hole possible in one spot in order to create bonds of love so strong they survive the threshhold of death. Death is the test of love and everything really. Only that which is real survives.
So I’m not a let go and move on type of person. I don’t mind suffering for something which has value. But I would rather not invest in something which death will hack apart. Only those things you would suffer, bleed and die for really matter in the end because those are the only things that carry forward. That is my philosophy anyway. I believe there is an eternal world where treasure accrues. A relationship that withstands the tests of hell becomes immortal. Of course, this willingness to accept pain can sometimes backfire and make you hang on to the wrong things. But I do want my relationships with Slippers and Patton to make it to the Forever World. They are such special friends to me.
Lettuces forever.
Which brings me to another issue…. for a while there I felt I was finding a groove. Surviving as a poor person was seeming not only doable, but magical. Cleaning my clothes in a bucket, picking lettuces from the Lettuce Patch for the Poor, accepting charity where offered… it felt like I’d stepped into a fairy tale. But when I shared my enthusiasm for poverty on Facebook people started throwing all kinds of fear and anger at my head, calling me desperate for attention, playing at being poor, condescending to actual poor people while also abusing all humanity by being a lazy slob who needed a job. They also said they’d seen me make soldiers cry with their own eyes. On purpose.
Normally I don’t mind retard attacks, but now that I have no husband it feels more unnerving than it used to. There is no one to take my side against a mob* nor do I feel as willing to lose the support of random acquaintances.
The get a job thing bothers me especially, because I do have a job. In fact I care so much about this job that I’m willing to sacrifice wealth, respect and safety for it because it feels like a divine calling.
I don’t relate to the view where your success as an artist is based on the number of humans who know your creations. What if you only had an impact on one human? What if that human was your self? There is no way to measure how impacts play out over the course of time. What is more impactful- a song known only to Noah that he hummed on the ark for his animals- or the most popular song on earth right before everyone drowned in a flood? You can’t say really.
And beyond that, I feel art changes the world even if no one at all hears it, because it carves new spaces in the world of imagination. The realm that precedes that which is possible on earth. Success is the extent to which you can open the portals you are trying to open and build the magical kingdoms you are trying to build.
At first I just wanted to write songs, but now it is important to me to write the specific songs that bore the hole I am trying to bore. I have a feel of the sort of energy I want to usher into this plane. Muses come and go but there is a muse behind them who is constant.
And if my muse guides me to beg for quarters why not? People got so angry at me for bringing up begging on facebook but I think there is something beautiful about it. Someone holding up a cup, giving you the opportunity to place a coin inside? Who knows what good could come from that? And what is the danger in a coin moving from one place to another?
The problem is these other people’s views on life & their horrible judgments of my character really threw me off my own wavelength to where I couldn’t write songs or anything. As though I was a monster for not devoting my life to a 401k plan. But it’s hard for me to see how a life where you aren’t following your own spirit is even a life to begin with.
For me there is no choice. Even if I try to do what others want I won’t. I just have to do what I’m going to do anyway and hope for the best.
“Lettuces For The Poor” Lettuce Patch. If you take a solemn vow to be truly poor then you can take a lettuce of your choice.
Also, I have been on dates. Sweet men and delicious food.
Also, playing gigs for dollar bills and delicious food. I love it how people throw money into a hat or a guitar case. That is what started me thinking how beautiful it could be to beg with a metal cup. In between music, men, EBT & lettuce patches I am eating better now as a poor person than I ever did as a married lady of dignity and grace.
Also, someone I like asked me if I wanted to be friends with benefits. What does this mean? It sounds like such a cosmopolitan offer. My lesbians have assured me that pain this way lies. Then one lesbo called me on the sly to say she thinks its a great idea because relationships suck.
Also, I have a side hustle working as a secretary for one of my heroes, an herbalist. Years ago, I made a list of 10 people on earth I would like to meet. The other 9 were jackasses but this one has been a benefactor to me and changed my life. To receive help from someone you admire is a sweet feeling.
Also, it used to shock me how the black people on my street would walk down the sidewalk dancing and singing out loud. Now I do that too.
Also, I like the musicians I meet. I no longer hate people who play guitars. I guess I just hated the musician in myself because I grew up in a world where musicians had AIDS. But I’ve really come to cherish their freewheeling ways and the time we spend together. I love being able to ask people if they would prefer to eat a shit filled dick or have their own dick stapled to the wall & they will just consider the question and answer it rather than making me feel like I’m some kind of freak. I like being around people who are stoned. In their own way they are kindred spirits.
It’s almost like I’m becoming a free spirit.
Charleston West Virginia where I live.
Patton is glad I’m back. I wish you could have seen his smile a couple days ago when he saw me for the first time. He looked insane.Slippers my goldie angel.
* Btw…….. I said I feared no one would defend me from mobs now that I’m a single lady but that didn’t turn out to be true. My lesbians came to my defense just as they have before. Not just intercepting stones, but hurling them back. From a Scorpio perspective, nothing means more than a friend who will fight for you. This made me cry as well. I hope every female finds some serial killettes to have her back.
We normally start song time with Stand By Me, a song that was written by a dog for a dog.
I lie in bed at night with the lights on not wanting to shut my eyes. Cause when I shut them I see that James is angry at me, really angry and that makes me scareder. I wish there was something I could do to change it but there isn’t.
And when I close my eyes I feel how heartbroken I am about my dogs. I want to see them so badly it’s unbearable. But if I start crying I’ll have to sit up to keep from eating snot so it’s best to just lie down with eyes open.
On the bottle my middle initial is K but I may change it to Nunki, the second brightest star in Sagittarius. Nunki means Open Seas and brings the gifts of blue and communication.
A bossy friend told me of a poor person’s clinic near me where I should go for fear medication so I can sleep. I went there. In the waiting room a man was scratching himself while mumbling about killing people. His voice got louder as he groaned about being burned at the stake. Finally he was just shouting “Steak! Steak!” I started to freak out so texted “Help me!” to a friend then in a girly voice the man said “Help me!” Once I realized he could read my mind I relaxed.
The clinic gave me an official looking bottle of pills in a white paper bag for absolutely free. I had just walked in off the street with no insurance or anything. But they said if I come back I will have to give them blood. A price I won’t pay. I would rather pay in money. The pills they gave me dried out my mouth anyway.
James had his hearing. He pled guilty and was sentenced to one year of parole. This meant I didn’t have to testify but the trial was still traumatic because I don’t like seeing James in trouble. And I don’t like knowing he will be mad at me and potentially punish me.
My lawyer recused himself on the day of the trial for which I had prepaid him. He said he had to because he had been telling the magistrate that I would plead the 5th in order to not incriminate myself. Basically he implied I was lying. He did this because I wanted him to help me keep James out of trouble & also to keep me from having to testify. However, I had made it clear to my lawyer- I thought- that I wasn’t lying and I didn’t want to be portrayed as such. So this was unnerving & left me with no one to look out for my interests or explain what was going on.
I had also hired James’s lawyer to protect James. Like a damn fool apparently. Before he was hired I asked if he would be defending James by throwing me over a bus. I wanted to protect James but didn’t want to be sacrificed. He said “Good heavens! Of course not! That’s not how it’s done!” But it appeared he lied. There was something about the way he treated me that scared me on a deep level. James has been telling my friends that he & his lawyer are now going to sue me for abuse. I don’t know what kind of abuse but I guess I’ll find out.
But Monday I was not on trial. It was the state vs James. After James was sentenced however, the magistrate- at the urging of James’s lawyer who we will call Shitindick- said I wasn’t allowed to go into my house to get my possessions or see my pets. He said if I did I would go to prison. I started crying hysterically. I had already been told that nothing could happen to me at a trial that was for James so this was confusing. Technically I didn’t have to even be there.
So the next day I returned to the magistrate’s office to seek clarity. Everyone in the magistrates office assured me the magistrate could not legally ban a witness from seeing her dogs or accessing her own possessions. They looked me up in their system but there were no orders against me. They said it just couldn’t happen without a hearing or a petition against me being filed, none of which had taken place. They had no idea why the magistrate would have said that.
So I went to talk to the magistrate himself. I said I didn’t understand the legal basis of him telling me I would go to prison for collecting my things or seeing my dogs when there had been no hearing for me. I had not committed crimes, been offered legal representation or had anything filed against me. I told him his office had looked me up on the computers & assured me no conditions such as these were in place. They said it was impossible to punish the victim in a trial, only the person on trial can be punished.
He didn’t answer my question but just started talking about how the courts had bent over backwards for me (referring to when they banished James from the home while I was crying hysterically & begging them not to.) He kept saying “You ALLEGE these things against your husband” as though I was some conniving cunt trying to get James in trouble when he knew I’d been attempting to get the case dropped for months. He said “You’re not dumb, you ran for office.” as though dumbness was a prerequisite for getting head slammed.
“You had you chance to call 911 when James came back to the house.” he said. True, but how did that magically turn him into a monarch who can issue commands with no legal basis?
It’s obvious a crack ho lives here. I’m trying Mommy but it’s not easy!
On other notes, it’s not that easy to function at the moment. I hope this is just a phase but my beautiful apartment is turning into a crack den. On the plus side, I’m doing an okay job of learning poor people secrets. It’s not even so much about getting by with less, which I’ve done for years. It’s more about saying yes to free stuff and yes to other humans helping you. Being a mooch was always my greatest fear so being poor is good in some respects since it forces you to receive stuff.
Where I come from people offer you stuff, but you are supposed to refuse. “Oh please, let me run out in this blizzard to get you fresh bagels for breakfast!” “Oh no, please don’t! I’m on a diet anyway!” “You on a diet? Nonsense! I insist.” “No really, I couldn’t.” This goes on for a few minutes as a charming display of politeness & consideration.
So when someone makes me an offer now, like “Would you like this bagel?” I don’t know how to respond. Are they actually wanting to give me a bagel or are they wanting me to refuse it? I’ve been trying to say yes and see what happens but it is unnerving. If you said yes where I’m from you would be a social leper. But bagels are so tempting to the poor.
A person gave me this guitar. I said yes. Then laid it down on a dirty mattress with no sheets, crack ho style.Every day I check my tongue. So long as it’s still a perfect triangle I know my spirit is intact.
Everyone said leave James so you can have a life. What is a life? I thought I had one to begin with.
I don’t know what I think of my life so far. Right now I am delusional because I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know why. I don’t like shutting my eyes so I try sleeping with the lights on. I wake up a few hours later & want to see what is going on in the world.
Being single is fun. Because you can do what you want. People always said “Being single is fun because you can do what you want.” That always seemed dumb. I liked what I did when I was married. Writing songs, baking muffins. I didn’t feel I was suppressing a desire to suck two dicks at once.
But I can’t deny that something has changed because I am having a lot more fun even doing the same things I used to do. I feel less inhibited. I don’t mean in terms of men or flirting. I just feel more free to be a dumbass.
There have been so many moments of paradise. Performing music is paradise. Writing songs is paradise. Drinking an alcoholic beverage, talking to a person….
I was playing in an antiques store & there was this door that opened over and over making a chime sound. The chime sound mixing with the music was paradise. I’m playing with a bass player named Bill. The bass mixing with the melody is paradise.
I have a weekly gig at an Indian restaurant. The music mixing with images of Hindu gods is paradise. Getting paid in food and carrying my box of food home is paradise. I love playing for tips and I love playing for dinner.
I went to an open mic where someone was playing keyboard in the most elaborate fashion. The chorus was
We’re not dumb. We’re just as smart as you. We’re West Virginians. And we’re humans too.
The audience was singing this in unison. The keyboard was going wild. Someone threw a bottle through the air and it missed the trash. Bliss overtook me and I threw a bottle too hitting Bill in the head. Absolute paradise.
These paradise moments keep stacking up to where I almost feel I’ll lose control.
There is a flip side tho…. I am struggling more than expected to run a tight & crisp ship.
For starters I don’t know what to eat. I stocked up my pantry with boxes of macaroni and tuna fish, not foods I especially like. But even cooking macaroni is too much work when you don’t have a dishwasher. I don’t feel excessively grounded. I always felt it was James who kept me down to earth.
I was single once before for about 6 months & I really started to go off the deep end. I was nailing bath towels to my wall to use as telephones. If I managed to get 5 dollars, I’d buy a pool noodle. I wasn’t delusional… it’s hard to explain but I was very aware of whether or not contacting people via bathtowel actually worked. But imagination & magical thinking took over 90% of my brain. I was writing songs constantly. I performed all the time. I painted. Did nonstop magical experiments. Then for dinner I would smash a can of green beans open with a hammer.
So when I feel spaced out and start walking in circles, I worry a little what the future holds. I hope that staying connected to other people will keep my feet on the ground.
****
Now some pics…
A mermaid created by Vulgaris & a box of tea from Avulva who wants me to suck a bag of dicks this summer. Will I? Probably not because I am superstitious about men using their penises as straws to suck out the life force. Not to mention that I can’t afford STDS when my goal is to live off $2,400 a year.
People have been sending me things to hang on my wall which means so much to me. I can’t say I feel that alone. The problem is, many of the things require nails to hang and the landlord said no holes. I bought a pack of command strips but the instructions were so complex I gave up.
Tuna fish, macaroni, tuna fish, macaroni. Together for every meal. Food is mathematics. And handwashing dishes is worse than expected.
I’m not happy with this situation because food fills in the bass notes of our emotions and I want the full range. I like people who eat. I like people who cook. I don’t like people who spend years living off candy like I always do.
Washing clothes in a garbage can. There are no laundry machines where I live or even in the neighborhood so this is my best idea.
Fresh from the garbage can, clothes hang to dry. I hope they don’t get wrinkled. It’s my first time trying this.
The jungle creeps into my kitchen. Music is a source of bliss but it needs a counterforce to keep it in check. I don’t know if I’ll be able to supply that force for myself.
A candle. I always keep one candle burning somewhere with a secret wish attached.
One. Making his way cross the floor The second don’t come anymore Cause they only come when it’s easy easy.
Red lightning that flash in his eyes Holding my face in a vise This is the game that will please me please me.
Oh no lemme go I’ve been thinking about this so Something is not right although I love you so much beyond reason reason.
Haha funny bitch do you think that I need your lies? Lying bitch now what words will you say this time? After I put my dick on the line just to please you please you.
Cards cards on the table- no way That’s not the game that they play They only stay when it’s easy, easy.
Walk pacing around on the floor Did you dream anything more? More than the lessons they teach me teach me.
Oh no lemme go I’ve been thinking about this so Something is not right although I want you to love me and keep me keep me.
Ho ho gaming bitch do you think that I need you now? Do you think you can turn this around some how? I could jerk it right now to the thought of you bleeding bleeding.
Blood. One little drop just for you. That was the first time you knew This was a game that was easy easy.
Sigh. All of the things that you say Holding my mind in a sway All of the lessons you teach me teach me.
Oh no lemme go I’ve been thinking about this so Something is not right although When I close my eyes then it’s reeling reeling
And still I stay cause I want you to keep me from harm Wrapped up like a fly in your beautiful arms Drip drop from your mouth everything that you’re feeling feeling.
Swallow. Don’t snitch. Shut your cunt mouth you dumb fucking bitch. Are there voices do you hear their cries? Answer me but only when I tell you that it’s time.
My new bed which came as a box of 5,000 bars. I wasn’t going to bother even trying especially since my wrist is messed up so I can’t turn screws but three people from the shelter showed up like angels & put it together. Megatron* sent me green sheets. So many people have been helpful that sometimes I cry from guilt because I know I’ll never repay them.
That is Glenn on the right, my oldest friend, & Snuffles on the left. Meat** said it looks like a prison bed, which may be just what I need since prisoners are hard & wily.
I feel so afraid. I have to go to court in 10 days for J’s trial & I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or what will happen. It’s horrible. All I wish is that there was something I could do to make things good.
The shelter ladies gave me a choice between a green and a gray basket of home goods & I chose green. It feels like green is the color guiding me forward.
* Megatron is the being formed by women acting collectively. I can’t believe how many women have helped me. It’s humbling. I really don’t think the negative stereotypes about females are true. It seems to me they are angelic beings.
Well the thing I had been dreading happened. Neptune finally hit the bottom of my chart (representing home) and I had to move out of my house with James, Patton & Slippers into an apartment by myself.
I don’t know if I can talk about this yet because it is too painful. I poured all my love into one person and by the end he would not even allow me to speak in my own home- the home I spent one million hours painting & cleaning, the home where I served him food every day, made him 5 coffees a day, always did what he wanted and tried to please him. But no matter what I did his view of me kept growing darker and darker.
One wrong word from me had become so powerful it would derail his brain for weeks and force him to stay in bed, missing important deadlines. This is why I was no longer able to talk. So I stopped. But that wasn’t enough. In the end he said my very presence terrified him. He wanted me gone. And so I had to move out. That is the bad part. The horrible part. I can’t even process it or figure out what it means.
Based on what others tell me he is narcissistic & discarding me because of his upcoming domestic violence trial. I no longer reflect positively on him and it is easier to get rid of me than to own some mistakes and move forward. Some people tell me he has borderline disorder or might be experiencing psychosis. Sometimes he would scream at me “I’M INSANE- DON’T YOU GET IT!!!!! HOW STUPID ARE YOU!?!?! MY BRAIN DOESN’T WORK!!!”
Some men ask what I did to him to make him this way. Some say he must have just stopped loving me. If there is one area of life in which I applied myself it was as a wife. I did everything I could for him. He used to yell that his stress was due to the house being in foreclosure. “THANKS TO YOU WE ARE GOING TO BE HOMELESS, DON”T YOU GET IT!?!? HOW STUPID ARE YOU?!?!” So I got us in a covid relief program that paid all $18,550 of the debt. It took me 9 months. It didn’t even make him like me for one minute.
He said he couldn’t afford food so I got us foodstamps. He didn’t want to be bothered, so I didn’t bother him. If he wanted cookies at one am, I made them. I *wanted* to make them because I liked doing things for him. He meant so much to me.
He wanted me to run for office and I did. He wanted me to start a cardano stakepool so I did. If he wanted me to do astrology readings for him or his stakers I jumped at it. I would have done anything for him. I enjoyed it.
When I try to think of why he hates me these are the only things I can think of…
I’m not capable of sleeping in the same bed. I just can’t fall asleep. For a long time, anything hurtful he did would be attributed to how I hurt him by not sleeping in the same bed and he needs that.
I can’t swallow his cum. This makes me want to throw up. It’s nothing personal to him I just don’t believe in eating things that aren’t foods. Just thinking about it I’m starting to gag.
I turned him into the police. I didn’t know he would get arrested. I just wanted their help and didn’t know where else to turn. It had been 5 years of him hurting me and in those situations you have little recourse since you are supposed to keep the whole thing private. Him going to jail was my greatest nightmare. I didn’t want that. But he will never forgive me for it. He says I did it out of spite.
I had a mini-affair. After he came back from jail, he was darker than ever. I didn’t know what to do. He loathed me. If I tried to talk, he would twist a blanket into a rope & hold it over my mouth.
I didn’t know what to do. I felt I’d exhausted all options on the side of good, so decided to try to the dark side & went to second base with a psychopath. In some ways, it helped because it diverted my mind from James, so I could leave him alone more. But it wasn’t long before this other guy was also threatening to kill me and I felt maybe I didn’t want to be a lying cheating whore anyway.
So this could be why James hates me. But he hated me before I did it too. He hated me before he went to jail. He would scream at me that I was a stupid fucking cunt who had ruined his life. He didn’t say how.
If people had watched the last 6 years they would probably not understand why I miss James so much. But I really loved him. His essence and smell, not necessarily the way he treated me. Now that I’ve met more humans they always say I’m funny and that James must like how funny I am. This makes me laugh because, no, James does not find me amusing. At best, I’m a stupid cunt. At worst, a terrifying presence. “PLEASE STOP!!!!! STTTTTOOPPPPP!!!! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!!!???” he would scream on repeat while covering his ears, crying and rocking back and forth if I tried to talk to him about anything. He does not find me funny.
But its more than his essence… I liked how caring and protective he once seemed. How loyal I thought he was and how much I thought he loved me. I liked that he wanted to put down roots with me and create something lasting. I liked collecting things with him and having a house and dogs. I liked it when we cooked together. I liked how he used to help me solve my problems.
When I first met him, I was pretty insane due to living in isolation with a husband who had me be 28 different people. James’s love & his encouragement to listen to myself helped me untie many knots.
But even in the beginning, some problems were there. About every third day would be spent in the closet crying because he would go into rages. I can’t remember what the rages were about. It seems like they didn’t make much sense. My first husband also went into frequent rages about things that were hard to understand. But with James I would block all the bad things out. Because he was True Love. I saw him as perfect and those were the feelings I had towards him. Absolute trust as well.
It was only when he started getting physical that the fog started to lift a little. Because I felt that was crossing a line. As a kid I heard that if a man hits you you must leave immediately,. So I felt I had to draw a line there. But I couldn’t. After jail I stopped trying to draw that line. Cause it felt like me drawing lines was the problem. The problem was that I was a bad wife who had got her husband in trouble. So I wasn’t going to make a deal about it anymore.
But in the end, he wanted me to leave. I was so malicious, so psychopathic, such a lying gaslighting spiteful cunt that he needed me gone so he could function. No amount of silence, service, tolerance, anything made me better in his eyes.
Now when I go to the house to visit the dogs he is neither hot nor cold. Neither happy nor bothered. I’m a janitor wandering in to clean the toilets. No longer a psychopath. No longer a malicious cunt. Just a nothing.
Fruit Cocktail bought with my new EBT card in a bowl given to me by the women’s shelter who are also paying for my apartment. The single life is full of woe. If you are married- PLEASE never leave your husband. Especially if he orders you pizzas or takes you to chick fil-a. Especially if you can get dipping sauces & order breadsticks and fries and milkshakes. You would be insane to walk away from something like that. Nothing is worth more than the lump of a warm body combined with food.
Life is pain. Bang your head on the shining door Everything you went looking for In his eyes.
It was maybe a dream Worlds that bubble up from the floor Head is twisting a little more… Who am I?
Do you hear all the little things? They sing. All the little things, they say All the time we need to get back home, we’ll find.
Stay closely by Move slowly across the floor Everything you went looking for You’re about to find.
Close both of your eyes Hear the words that the people say Feel the waves come in cool and gray. You can feel a life.
Life is a flood. Pumping his dreams into your blood Heaving gently against the mud. Never alone.
Can you fight for the flame? Clawing your way towards the light. Bleeding silent into the night. Almost home.
Do you hear all the little things? They sing. All the little things, they say All the time we need to get back home, we’ll find.
Stay closely by. Move slowly across the floor Everything you went looking for You’re about to find.
Close both of your eyes. Hear the words that the people say Feel the waves come in coold and grey. You can feel a life.
Do you hear all the little things? They sing. All the little things, they sing. All the songs we need to get back home we’ll find.
