As far as it goes for me, in the beginning all I wanted was the feeling of being cared about. You might not know, but for someone as depressed as me, that warmth, that assurance that you are in fact important to someone, is like a drug to a heroin addict. And I was stupid. You go into a relationship looking for safety and security, and it's easy to forget that while this irenic quietude may shelter you from the teeming masses, it also puts you at the mercy of one person. And in the end you will most likely feel varying degrees of pain from a million betrayals, ones big or small. He spoon fed me bullshit about how he was in love with me, and I, too willingly, believed it.
I have never met someone who turns women into play things. He had two girlfriends- *excuse me apparently 3 now?- one of whom took him back after doing this to before. Cheats on everyone he's been together with. Compulsively lies not just to us, but to his friends about where he's going, or even about what he ate for breakfast. Everyday he works out, putting forth all of the effort towards getting girls. All he talks about, all his ego is built upon, is sex- which is something he isn't even that great at. Mister D1 athlete- whose scholarship he lost- puts himself up on a pedestal and girls go down on it- again, and again, and again. I felt like I had to do something to finally teach him a lesson.
Yelling at him would do nothing. The words would just make me feel like I was severely fingering myself. They're just words is all. Powerless. Vocabulary. I wanted every girl to know the kind of guy he is, so I posted that status on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=175613269123102&id=675367542). Getting high fives in the hallway all day pumped me up even further, and by break I was so livid I couldn't even see straight. I resorted to mutually assured destruction, and after fun things went down in the ceramics room with his back pack, things finally escalated when I poured a water bottle on him during passing period. It felt so good.
So fuck you for luring me into a life of nihilism, but listen here you beautiful son of a bitch. I am not like the rest of the girls from your past. I am not a lifeless Stepford Wife who cooks, cleans, and fucks with a blissful, idiotic smile. Nor am I some simple, easy girl who can be reduced to the stereotype of a slut. I know my worth and you do not deserve me, and I hope through all of this you have learned you cannot fuck with me. But more importantly I hope that you no longer treat women as toys.
Kaelee, your post is beautiful, especially the "lifeless Stepford Wife who cooks, cleans, and fucks with a blissful, idiotic smile" part. But I think Phil here, is exhibiting 'antisocial behavior' (lacks conscience and acts without regard to society) a characteristic of all serial killers....soooooo yeah!
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