• Now It’s My Turn

    by  • March 28, 2011 • Abuse, Anger • 3 Comments

    Dear Paul,

    I do not hate anyone, save for you.

    I moved away from home. I lock my door against you every night. I deleted your number a long time ago, but I still know it by heart. Whenever I drive past your house, I always look to see if your car is in the driveway, even though I know you don’t live there anymore. There was one day when it was there – you must have been visiting your parents. I was tempted to knock on your door and confront you. I don’t know what I would have said or done. I just wanted some kind of closure I guess.

    I wish death upon you every day. I hope that one of these days you’ll pop one too many pills and drink one too many beers and that you’ll just keel over dead. I hope that you really are suicidal. I hope you still have that AK-47. I hope you eat it one of these days, and that I’m the last thing that goes through your brain before that bullet does. Death is too good for you, but you certainly aren’t fit to live.

    You’re lucky I was raised with better standards than most, or you would have been dead a long time ago. My father will gladly kill you if you ever speak to me again. He’s a rifle, good aim, two acres of land, and a shovel. Nobody would know where you were, and nobody would care.

    If you ever contact or harass me again, I’m going to turn your whole fucking world inside out. I’ve already gotten you fired from a government job and put on a watch list, and rightfully so. Stealing government property? Come on. If anybody can put you in jail for the rest of your life, it’s me.

    Quite often, people ask me if I would take it all back – meeting you, our relationship, etc -and I say no. You gave me balls. Thanks to you, I don’t take shit from anyone. Thanks to you, I have a close-knit group of friends who trust me with their lives because of my attitude, my confidence, and my outlook on life. You turned me into the person that everyone wants to fuck and nobody wants to fuck with.

    How does it feel to crawl into bed every night knowing that I’m not afraid of you anymore? How does it feel to have someone else in control or your life? I’m pretty sure you feel pretty similar to the way I did a few years ago, before I figured out you’re a conniving, manipulative, worthless piece of garbage. Well guess what? I’m not afraid of you anymore. You’re MY bitch now.

    Abused, Harassed, and Stalked…and doing something about it.

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    3 Responses to Now It’s My Turn

    1. S
      March 28, 2011 at 9:15 am



    2. Jennifer
      March 28, 2011 at 5:01 pm

      Hell yeah! You go girl.. I love it .. I don’t know if I’ve ever hated anyone that bad.. Great of you to find the silver lining.. Amazing 🙂


    3. M
      March 29, 2011 at 7:34 pm

      My god. I was abused and stalked by a man named Paul too.
      I’m happy you’re not afraid anymore and after writing a similar letter on this site I’m ecstatic that we both found an outlet and that we’ve both moved on.
      It just made us stronger.



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