It’s been nearly 3 years now.
I was just reading over my old journal entries from that time.
Holy shit, was that an awful relationship. Two whole years of constant verbal abuse, self injury and abuse, and just down right bullshit. You made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the universe. You made me think I was worthless, that nothing mattered but making your ass happy.
When I think about all the bad shit, I really want to just go to your shitty redneck trailer and piss all over it. But I’m a grown up now, so I’ll just shrug my shoulders and continue with my life.
As much nonsense and abuse as we had, we had a ridiculous love.
We had a crazy passion. And that took up two very long years of my life. I was just 18 when it all started. No wonder it sticks with me so much.
You know, I fucking hate you sometimes. But as much as I hate you for what you did, I still wish you well. I still find myself wondering what you’re up to, hoping you’re not still a lonely hermit living off your mom and mentally challenged uncle. But I’m sure you still are.
I still dream about you, far more than I would ever admit to anyone. And in all those dreams, it’s the same thing. I go to you to become friends again, and we go off merrily to one of my friends’ house and hang out, and just have a really great time.
I guess I feel bad for you. Because you never had friends, and probably never will. Your life sucks, man.
But I would never actually reach out to you, just because I feel bad for you. Because you’re a professional mind fucker, and I can’t have that in my life ever again.
And because I am finally genuinely happy now. My boyfriend and I have been together for nearly 2 years now, and I am still incredibly in love with him. Unlike my relationship with you was at 2 years, we are still doing great. We live together and at the end of the day can’t wait to go home and be together. I never lived with you, and hated having to go over to your filthy ass, cigarette dump trailer every day.
I am so grateful I had such a horrible experience with you.
Yeah, I said that. Grateful for your shit. Why?
I have hit rock bottom, and have no where to go now but up.
I have seen utter sorrow and pain, I have nearly ended my own life because of the unspeakable mental horror you put me through.
I write this not to make anyone feel sorry for me, or even make you feel bad (not that you’ll ever read this anyways.)
I write this to get this off my chest, and maybe to even give other people some hope.
If you are in an abusive relationship, there is hope.
My very existence is proof of that.
I can’t think of any great advice to give to you, I just want you to know that there’s at least one girl, one woman, who has made it through an incredibly shitty relationship that was threatening her very life. And you will be alright. Eventually.
And to Garrett, the mother fucker who put me through it all, I say thank you for the hard lesson learned. And good luck with your sorry life.
I do wish you could just be a decent man, and we could be friends. But I know you better than that.
Hang in there, man. Maybe some of these dreams I have of your happiness will reach you, and come to life for you.
Either way, I’m still happy.
I have Chris now, and my whole amazing life ahead of me.
Whether you are there in my bright future or not doesn’t really concern me anymore. No matter how much your memory haunts me, you have no hold over me anymore.
It’s been nearly 3 years now.