Day 1: How I'm gonna get out from under the weight of You.

Dear readers,

If you are going to follow along, I want to warn you in advance: this is going to be the shittiest roller coaster you've ever written. You're going to lose respect and gain it back and then kinda maybe puke in your mouth a little bit. Idgaf. This is the diary of a strange white woman and if you're not here to be trapped go ahead and fuck off. It's that simple. These are my letters to my dear John and whether it seems so or not, they are written in love. Hell he won't (I doubt) ever read these letters...so the warning is for those popping popcorn and settling in.

Dear John,

You're missing in action again and once more, my soft heart is bleeding out. How stupid am I?

I keep doing this to me. I said it right, I keep doing this to me. Jack Sparrow said it best: You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. If I know you're a liar, if I know that you are going to leave when I need you the very most... If I know that you are going to love me when it's convenient but bolt when it's hard and I still let you in my heart, soul and headspace, then the shit is entirely my fault. I just felt like I needed to be accountable for that. My old sponsor says I'm the problem in any situation, I never understood why exactly - but I see now that if it's not my fault then it's some thing I find unacceptable and therefore my responsibility to come to terms with. I digress.

For what it's worth, I'll never stop trying to call you, text you, or move around you. At least until you tell me that I should stop. You're passive aggressive though, and desperate to be loved in a real, gratifying way so I doubt you would. You'll just absorb everything you can until something triggers an angry reaction and then you'll vomit in my lap. I can imagine what you've said behind my back. If you didn't love me, why couldn't you just say so? You see, it might hurt more, but it's less time spent aching under it.

You almost put your hands on me. Almost. You put your hand around my throat with no pressure and balled your fist up to my face. Ah now here we are, for you see, I know what to do with this. Again I forgot to shut the fuck up. What do you tell a woman with two black eyes? Nothing, you told her twice? New punch line: Keep your mouth shut. Your self control is immaculate because you did not hurt me- but I know you saw me revert to a place I was so far from I was almost unfamiliar with it. When you asked what you had done and I told you, you said, "I didn't do that, I didn't. I didn't do that, I didn't mean it." What man lives in you that you are so afraid of. I saw your face. "Oh fuck. Not this again, never again. Bitch get away from me before I turn into a monster." My love, you were already a monster. I already knew you. I forgive you. I know we won't reach that place again.

I did what I said I was going to do. I helped you find your truck. I covered your head with a roof and called it a day, little as it was. I showed you that I needed nothing from you but you in order for you to be loved. And now I should just pack up and go? Because why?

Because you're embarrassed to have been shown that and determined that you were indeed, wrong. That's my best guess, ultimately you're humiliated to know that all this time you've been misjudging yourself, others and especially me... And it burns you up to know that you've treated someone who truly loved you like complete shit. "How dare you assume the way I think and feel?!" You never tell me anything about how you think or feel. You hide until you're mad. I see you do it with every one.

I'm done for today. See you tomorrow.