Part of me thinks this is a case of one of those open relationships gone bad. Beer bottle WARNING: DO NOT...
I feel like writing Dan Savage. YOu know those ideas you have? All wrong. About open relationships and having an affair if your partner doesn't fulfill you. I'ts okay. NO. NOt at all. Next thing, your car is hacked into, your comoputer, your phone, your home has the furniture rearranged, the dog is dead, and there's writing on the wall, big in red paint, YOU'RE A FUCKING WHORE! DIE! BITCH! DIE! You think it can't happen. You have to be careful with your heart, pussy and dick. Plus, someone ate your crackers. For some reason. While he/she were there. YOu can't understand it. The madness.
The writing on my shower wasn't demeaning, just initials. I ignore it now. Try not to look at it. But it's a reminder. Daily. What is happening is real.
"Why would you get involved with THESE PEOPLE?!" I yelled at my stepfather. Not realizing at the time that the only person who was involved with them was me. LIke a fucking dumbass.
My mother called me "delusional" and then when I refused to go to the ER, she sent the police after me.
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