Tangled

 I was thinking about {D} all night. That man is scared. The bar is investigating and he already has an attorney. I know he can’t afford an attorney and he isn’t going to use a cheap one. He is terrified he might actually lose his law license. 

And I feel bad about it. 

I asked them to mandate rehab. Maybe that’s is where they will leave it. But I don’t think so. They seem a bit horrified by the whole thing. Maybe suspension? I don’t know.  

I need to get out of this cycle though. There has been some sort of sociopathic game {D} and I have been playing since May. He called me stupid because I got a text from some fucking burn out card dealer from fucking Jersey. So I have for lack of a better term been playing gotcha with him. 

He had a set up for me to get arrested sending the video to Vermont. He didn’t want me to know where he was or where he was going. I can respect that. But, you tell me not to and my defiant ass is going to. Found his address today. He actually got a PO Box so his address wouldn’t be public but alas ain’t public records a bitch. I paid way too much for my history degree to not because to find primary sources for data. I want to text him and gloat. However? I think he is actually like scared of me now. I know he is scared. 

I’ve still been using him as a sounding board. He doesn’t respond but he reads the messages. It really fucking sucks when you are emotionally torn between your rapist and your best friend. {D} was both. That’s hella toxic, but it’s the truth. I don’t know if we are being toxic together or if he is just keeping an eye on me. I tell him when I do things. He knew I went to the bar. He knows everything I am doing with this. 

How do I reconcile this in my head? I want to warn him something is about to pop up, but me warning him is probably what got him from getting charged in the first place. 

This is the truly horrifying piece of all this, I was in love with that man and he was my best friend. How does that emotion work when you remember what he did and you hear in your head “shut up! Don’t be stupid!” And you can hear him calling you a “champ.” 

I have broken him down to two people instead of one. There is the {D} I was in love with for years, the California surfer boy as I called him, and there is a drunken monster that creeps out in the night and harms women. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde duality happening in my mind. 

So, for my California surfer boy who would get the joke, I was going to send him something off of Amazon to his new address to fuck with him. But, that’s could come off as a little psychopathic on MY part. I also need to stop contacting him. 

Am I sick? Is he sick? Is it just toxicity that I have not quite let go of yet? I need to find the strength to walk away from him as my security blanket. Goddamn this shit gets tangled. Why do I miss my rapist? Why did my best friend have to rape me? 

Here is the final text:

I shouldn’t be sending this. You are represented now so I need to not use you as my sounding board anymore. Like you need more proof that I am crazy. See this is the problem with your argument; I went home with you and dated you AND I’m crazy. But I went home with you and dated you BECAUSE I’m crazy. And we need to stop throwing crazy around as a term. I am depressed, severely so, and I am the sum total of a lifetime of sexual and physical abuse. I’m not howling at the moon and delusional. I never have been. Needy? Yes. Incapable of just shutting the fuck up? Yes. A step or 7 past normal defiance? Absolutely. I’m defiant for the sake of being defiant sometimes. Just to be contrary. So no I’m not a lunatic. I’m not going to be boiling bunnies anytime soon. The only goddamn reason I would ever be in Vermont is if the judiciary decides on a hearing. I will be there for that. Other than that I don’t ski, I’ve seen enough foliage, and I can buy syrup online. No need to ever go back. I did find your address and the P.O. Box. Jesus I would never have made it through school if I wasn’t a masterful researcher. Primary sources everywhere. Though, wondering where you voted…

{D} I’m not the psychopath in this pairing, that’s you. You are the only one who has caused physical damage as well as emotional trauma. I sent an email, you got yourself out of it as usual, you are no worse for wear.

Although I didn’t think the bar thing as going to make it past the first review. If you have a lawyer already, you’re scared. I mean, yeah, you should be. I feel sorry for doing that to you, but something needs to change. I hope maybe you look into rehab. Like think about it? You’ve been drunk my entire lifetime. You were 13 you told me. You’ve gone 45 years like this. Maybe if you get proper treatment and you really put the work in with the therapists, you can just not want to numb it all away. Your dick and your liver. That’s what always gets you in trouble. Imagine not being afraid of something happening when you’re drunk. I hope you do it. I hope they let you do it. But judging by your representation, I am not sure. You’re scaring me because I know you’re scared.

This is fucked up. It’s all fucked up. You’ve been my sounding board and someone I know you read the messages. That’s probably the only truth you ever told me was that you read everything I write. I know I’m being heard. And half of it is being pissed off and on shit, which I’m done with finally. The other half is worrying about you. And then there is the part that just makes me want to tell you when weird shit in my life happens or I find the food network en espanol in the middle of the night. And {your dad}deserved what I said to him. If {your son}had been drinking alone in his room at 13, do you think you would have done anything in your power to stop it and protect him? You would have.

But I’m coming off a the crazy one here. I talk too much and you rape people and I am the crazy one. I’m giving myself odds if you get disbarred you’re just going to kill me. C’est la vie. I mean honestly murder and rape have the same max sentence here, so, I’m just saying.

God how much did you have to pay for that dude? Like half the condo?? Again, wedding under the stripper sign would have been cheaper. How if he is on the judicial ethics committee? Lawyers doing lawyer shit. I just read his bio and yeah you got the best you can get. The {D} playbook. Yale, damn you went with the one school that fucked you out of arguing in front of the Supreme Court. You went Yale, damn. Well we shall see what happens. At least I’m not getting arrested… this time.

{D}, I need you to understand. Imagine if you spent your life getting punched in the face and not being able to fight back. Imagine then that the person who keeps punching you in the face can actually be tried for a crime. Like do you realize how for me having had this happen before too many times and they believed me this time. It’s on video. They believed me and that’s the crime, period. Forced penetration against the will of another. Watch the second video again. That’s not your sadist bullshit. That’s you having no control at all of yourself. That’s me being afraid of you and {M}. Like he wasn’t stopping either. So two men who are both ignoring my pleas to stop, one of which is a former boxer, the other I had heard stories about him being a maniac. Both of you told me that night you were both psychotic. So, what exactly was the safest game plan for me? This is a useless argument for me to be having. It’s academic at this point. And I will be trying to have him charged as well when I go back through. You both did it. He didn’t even break rhythm. Then you called me a “champ”

Oh yeah okay. So whatever. The chips will fall where they may.

Speaking of chips, {S}. Okay this is where you get to laugh. So I went the fuck off on him and left. Then I came back because I wasn’t done yelling yet. So I knock on the door and he has a metal security door and he looks and me and goes “are you going to beat me?” No I just yell. That’s my thing is yelling. Then I’m like sobbing because the man knows nothing about me. I asked him to say one thing he knew about me and he couldn’t do it. And I was like “did you ever want to know me?” And no answer. So I’m standing at the door sobbing and I didn’t want to go home because I was afraid of myself. And I’m just like “I have have nothing left to say I just can’t go home” This motherfucker seriously looks at me and says “I’ve got some really strong gummies if you want one” Then I sent him a wall of text explaining who I am.

You two never felt anything for me. It was just dick swinging because someone was playing with your toy. At least you were my friend. At least you listened. Thanks for that. And thanks for listening. I am certain the last person you ever want to hear from is me. But in my defense I tell you when I do shit. You know exactly what is happening. Which is why I shouldn’t talk to you anymore. There was this book I read in middle school. It took place in London during the war and it was this abused kid writing this old man like a pen pal and long story involving dead babies in a closet, but he couldn’t write to the man any longer and he just started writing it to him and not sending it. And he just kept writing. I don’t want to lose the outlet but I’m sure you’re done and I’m coming off as crazier than I actually am. I need to locate someone who will read my crazy. That was the problem with {S}, he is fucking illiterate. Like no illiterate per se but probably elementary school level comprehension. I was reading at a college level in 1st grade. Still can’t fucking spell, I cheated on a religion test in 3rd grade because spelling counted. I knew the answers just not how to spell them. I got caught and sent to the cemetery with Mr. Fitzgerald.