This whole fucking day has basically been a bust, and now my head hurts too much to try to be productive now. So I think I'll blog and go to bed.
My friend B. told me about some MORE shit I've apparently forgotten. *Sigh* Just how much of my memory did this fucking disorder take away from me?
I post on a message board for kinky people, though admittedly not as much anymore as I used to. We've got a thread on there called "Dear X." What you do is write an anonymous--or not so anonymous, if you choose--letter to someone in the thread. Some people use it for happy things, and some use it for not-so-happy-things. Today, I'll be Dear X-ing on my blog. There will be four letters, for X, Y, Z, and for all three. People who know me will know who each of these people are by reading. People who don't have no reason to know, anyway.
Dear X,
I loved you. Well, before I realized you were a narcissistic sociopath.
No, scratch that. I still love you. It just has to be kept veiled in a thick layer of bitterness and resentment, otherwise you'll just hurt me again. Probably not intentionally because you don't ever even think of me anymore. Just through complete indifference.
I did the best I could for you. I never measured up, no matter how hard I tried. No matter how many times I asked, you never even told me what you wanted from me. I asked you over and over and over what would make you happy, and you never told me. I scratched and scrabbled, trying so hard to do something, anything, that would please you, but it never happened. In retrospect, I'm sure it was a ploy. If you never told me what'd make you happy, you'd always be justified in acting as if whatever I did wasn't good enough for you.
In two years, do you know how many times you kissed me? Three times, two of which were to shut your husband up. I don't particularly like kissing, but I crave it from people I care about. Same thing with receiving oral. I'm not necessarily a fan, but it feels nice and intimate when it's someone I give a fuck about. Do you remember how many times you did THAT to me in two years? Once. For about a minute and a half. Also at your husband's instruction. Regardless of the fact that I used to do it for you every time we played and for extended periods of time. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to please you.
It was as if I was too revolting for you to touch.
How many times did I want to be held by you before bed, only to be blown off repeatedly? So many nights, I asked you to please come cuddle with me after your husband went to bed. You always told me you would once you got to a stopping place in your stupid fucking game, and you hardly ever did. I'd stay awake for hours, hoping you'd come and get in bed with me for a few minutes, so I could snuggle close to you and get a tiny shred of attention. I'd hear you in there talking to your friends who played your game, laughing and being loud, while I lay in bed crying because you didn't want to touch me. Then, I'd hear when you'd go to bed without even looking in on me.
You wondered why I acted like I didn't want to be there? Because you didn't want me there. I can only be rejected so many times before the self-hate and resentment consume me.
You promised me that the next time you went to the beach, you'd take me. I love the beach. The next time you went, you made plans to take someone else without even asking me if I wanted to go. I spent money I didn't have to buy you and him Valentine's Day gifts, only to be told I wouldn't be getting anything because you didn't have the money for gifts. Less than an hour later, we all stood in Sam's Club, and I watched you buy over $100 worth of things, some of which even *you* said you didn't need. You told a bald-faced lie right to my teeth and didn't even care that I saw right through it. I suppose I wasn't worth a fucking 50 cent card somewhere in that $100+ shopping trip?
And these are just the things I remember off the top of my head. I loved you. You used me for doing your laundry, cleaning your house, getting you off, and giving your husband someone to tie up and abuse because you think his (our) perversions are bad. Normal people would've just hired a maid and a hooker.
To top it all off, you took him, and you took my best friend from me without so much as a "by your leave." Most times, I was treated as less than human, like my feelings didn't matter one way or another. I was denied even basic human decency. I became your scapegoat. You claimed that you couldn't give me what I needed, but the truth is, you didn't even try.
I'm sorry that you couldn't love me because I don't have a penis.
To me, it feels like you milked me for all you could get out of me and then tossed me aside when you couldn't get any more, neatly replacing me with my best friend. You blamed me for my illness. You didn't realize that YOUR treatment of me is what caused most of my anger and bitterness toward the situation. You said nothing you did was ever right, that you couldn't make me happy. I gave you an entire list of things I liked, things I enjoyed. Most of them didn't require a lot of effort. Several didn't even require money. Did you try even one of them? Of course not. I wasn't worth the slightest bit of effort to you.
I loved you. You used me and threw me away and then had the audacity to blame me for it.
I should just chalk it up to the fact that you are a sociopath. You never had one real feeling toward me whatsoever. You cared about me only in so far as what I could do for you. But I can't. I still love you, and I hate myself for it.
All I ever wanted was to be good enough for you to love me. I'll never understand why I wasn't, but rest assured, I'll beat myself up for it for the rest of my life.
~Bunny
Dear Y,
I loved you. You betrayed me in the worst possible way. You blamed me for ruining our relationship. You blamed me for being crazy. The truth is, you found something better and left me in the dust.
I sincerely hope they never turn on you like they turned on me. I'm not sure I have it in me to save you again.
~Bunny
Dear Z,
You promised me you'd be there for me. You swore 3 years ago that you'd never run out on me again. But you did. You do it every time the going gets a little difficult. And then you wonder why I can't trust you.
It's hard to trust someone when you're waiting for the next time he leaves you.
I still love you. But I accept the basic fact that you're weak. You've always taken the path of least resistance. You want to have your cake and eat it, too. You want to have all these things, but you want them to come to you and stay with you without you ever having to lift a finger to maintain them. You play both ends against the middle and cave to whoever's the strongest force acting on you at the time. Integrity in the face of adversity is unknown to you.
And when it becomes something other than moonlight and roses, you leave.
I could move on. I doubt the situation will ever get any better. But I can't. I love you. It's a sick addiction, I suppose, but I need you, and I know I'll shrivel and die without you. But the situation is intolerable. There has to be an answer. And I'm sure there is, but it'll require you to get up off your ass and show the backbone that has, up until now, been conspicuously absent.
Forgive me for not being so sure it'll ever happen.
People ask me who my ideal man is. I always say it's you, if you didn't suck. Please stop sucking and give me what I need from you for the first time ever--love, consistency, strength, attention, and, most importantly, love. Please. If we're going to be shackled to one another for all eternity--and it damn sure looks that way--we should at least try to make it as painless as possible.
~Bunny
Dear X, Y, and Z,
Even after all this shit, I still love all three of you. I know you don't feel the same way, but I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to be good enough.
~Bunny
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