notes on loving a sociopath (part 15)

image by Edyta Serafin

image by Edyta Serafin

Night as thick as velvet has cast itself upon me, upon this place where I find myself, and its stars, in their web, shine like tiny pieces of glass. I feel somewhat hollowed out because of the admissions I’ve made about you, here. Rape, you raped me. I still find it so difficult to say that word in conjunction with you. And sometimes, in my mind, I still find myself silently making excuses for you, grasping, clutching, at any kind of reason that would make what you did alright, even if it means taking the blame onto myself. I loved you with a force as strong as scraping metal, a force strong enough to conjure sparks. And now? And now? I don’t know. Your ghost haunts me. Haunts me. Haunts me. Just as the demonic fire in your eyes haunted me. Just as your enormous and murderous rage haunted me. But I have now, this moment and this place where I find myself. And they tell me I survived. Yes, when you’ve transformed so many others that loved you into corpses, I survived.


I’m thinking about something Robert told me the other day, you still love [Mark]. This jarred me. Why? I don’t know. I denied it, of course. I’ve stopped loving you, I really have. How can I love my rapist, my abuser, my crazy-maker? How can I love someone who stripped me of all confidence? How can I love someone who stalked me? I don’t know. I don’t think I can. And I find myself sitting here, with so many questions and no answers. I have this feeling of uneasiness, a feeling of something swimming in my stomach. Something that doesn’t belong there. You, and these thoughts of you, they do not belong here, in my mind, do they? No, no they don’t.


About vacantgurl

i sometimes work in my pyjamas, bite ice cream and ride polar bears. okay, maybe not that last thing.

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