Attempting to Live for Them

"I'm not crazy. My reality is just different than yours."


January 2017


He doesn’t get how much I need someone to talk to. He won’t listen to my issues. He thinks I’m “just fine;” that I don’t need any help. I’m a wreck. And not having an outlet makes me feel worse. He spews nothing but hatred most of the time, and it fuels whatever rage is built in THEIR minds. I don’t like it.

He doesn’t realize that as he slept, I stood over him with a knife because they told me to, and the noise was to great to stop myself. He doesn’t understand that when I’m driving, I hope a bigger vehicle barrels into the driver’s side and kills me instantly. I have flashbacks to the recent accident and wish I had died right then and there. I’m afraid to be in vehicles because of that accident; I see it all of the time. I see other cars getting into accidents. I see things that aren’t there like tiny people doing things they shouldn’t, blood dripping from surfaces. I hear so many things. Just noise or voices, malevolent and benign. Most days I don’t want to deal with the kids or him or myself. I don’t shower on my days off because of those times. I don’t want to deal with people in the least because it gives me pains in my chest and my head. I want to die most days. He wants to get a gun, but he doesn’t know the reason I don’t want a gun in the house is because I’m guaranteed to take it and go off somewhere to take my own life with it.

These are the issues I run away from. These are just some of the things he doesn’t want to know about. These are some of the things that make me such a broken person. Sigh.


I think of him.

It all happened during one of my manic moments. Doing something so out of character, but needing something. I think of him sometimes. He was the best guy I was ever with that only lasted as long as it takes to snap your fingers. I remember him and everything between us like it was yesterday.

I always called him Mr. Perfect, not to his face. He had a great body…no, amazing body. He had tattoos. He was older and had many of the qualities I wanted in a man. And to think, I met him on a whim, and couldn’t believe he was interested in me…of all women he could have chosen.

We met in a public place after messaging back and forth for a little while. We had witty conversation (the basic get to really know you kind of stuff)  in the beginning face-to-face, but we got down to business; why we were really there. We discussed kinks, what our limits were, and new things we were willing to try.

Our first meeting was extraordinary, in my opinion (and heard nothing but great things from him (but who knows if it was real or a ploy, but honestly I didn’t quite care). His lips were soft; his body was muscular in all the right places; and the sex was downright toe-curling. I remember quite clearly his first words he said when it all began-“I can’t understand why no one would want to fuck you all of the time.”-as I gripped onto his desk and fell into the most blissful state I had ever been in.

We were always messaging each other at random times. Cute messages, intriguing conversation. It was never ending. He would message me while he was somewhere interesting just to tell me about it. He even went as far as just stopping to give me a hug just because he missed me. It was all rather sweet and different for me. I rather enjoyed the flattery.

We met again for another amazing tryst, but it was all cut short with a phone call to pick up the kids. At least it waited until after it all happened rather than before. I wish he could’ve stayed longer, but the time I got was a memory to add to the books.

He made things worth holding onto hope that there was some kind of happiness with another man out there, even though I knew it would never be with him. He was just perfect in my eyes.

Sadly, it all came to an abrupt end, but I will never forget any of it. It was worth the issues it caused. It was worth ta king care of myself and impressing him at ever turn. It was worth the fleeting smiles and butterflies I would get. I always wonder if I’ll ever have that again with someone.

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