I feel hopeless, helpless, useless… less of me than I should.

Like I have been walking outside in a storm for several days and I’m quite tired of being wet and cold now. Catching a chill, worried it will turn into a chest infection…

If I don’t find some warmth and fuel soon, I’m not sure how much further I will be able to make it.


She had been thinking if there was a healthy way to disengage.
Trying to plan some sort of amicable parting.
You had a minor argument today, and later you went to her again about it.
She needed to be left alone today, but you wouldn’t.
She tried to remove herself from the situation before she said anything deconstructive.
You blocked her path.
She tried to force her way passed and you grabbed her.
She fought to get free and you grabbed her.
She screamed for you to let her go again and again, and you screamed she couldn’t leave.
She started to physically flail and hit you but you still wouldn’t let her go.
She got her phone out to call someone and only then did you let her go…

Now she is at a friends, and she is not OK, and she will never let it happen again.

We guess the choice has been made now. The veil torn away revealing the sickness beneath.
An immediate end to this.

And now she is homeless.


I don’t think you love her anymore.
I think you are just addicted, and comfortable, and afraid to fail.

I want to fix it, I want to try and help, but I can’t reach you.

You don’t want her to explain the dreams she is drawing, you want to tell her you have given a character on a game her name and tell her you have given that character a cool gun. You make faces because she is drinking mead, but dude let her, she needs it right now.

She feels utterly alone, because if she connects to those who are trying to reach her and could understand, it would be a betrayal of you, it would push their faith away and marr her.

All the important parts of her, to her, are all of the unwanted parts to you.
And its killing her.


I am really scared about what happens next. I may end up homeless, who knows. I will definitely be isolated again. I will have learned a valuable lesson however, about what happens when not putting myself first and not enforcing agreements made.
I don’t want to be anyone else’s possession anymore.

I’d rather never see the sun.

Thistle ~ possession is the opposite of love

Tell me, why is it, that all freedom must be traded for love? The wolf must have a collar around its neck.

So that she doesn’t exist. Except to be his pet.

She speaks to no one. Sees no one. Goes nowhere.

She is alone. Isolated by his life. Even from herself

Compromise comes on her part heavily. His food. His music. His entertainment. The rooms are his rooms. If she leaves she will be homeless. This is his home and not her own, she is a stranger. When she wants to escape to the only one room that is not suffocated by him, he says he will take it and she has to stay in his.

He doesn’t seek out her depths. He doesn’t even ask her about who she is and what is important to her.

She has an obvious shrine in full view and he knows nothing, cares nothing.

They don’t share anything together. He will not answer anything deeper, will not open his mind to her. He got there through lies and told her he would lie to her still. He told her from the start she would not have his trust, and yet expects her to place her faith in him.

He says he loves her, but he only loves what he can look upon and touch. He does not care about anything inside. He is uninterested in her secret depths, in the universe inside of her. Uninterested in her thoughts. In her heart.

She doesn’t get to finish speaking.

He is always loud. His smell permeates her and replaces her own. His noise drowns out her heart beat. Erases her. Swamps her.

He ignores her pleas for solitude. Finds reasons to interrupt it. Claims he has no idea he was doing it.

He rambles on superficially. He expects his dues. He mopes or grovels at her eventual anger. He does not discuss.

He eats the rind and throws away the fruit.

I am not rind.