#glad he was painlessly put to sleep but fuck man
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I miss my cat so much it hurts :(
#i watched rt play stray#beautiful game#i have my other cat and i love her but he was my childhood cat#i was with him whem i was 5 and he was a few months old i think#glad he was painlessly put to sleep but fuck man#:(#dead cat#tw dead pet#dead pet#tw dead cat#lemon
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It’s Me. I need to fix me.
When did the mission stop being love?
When my mother used to beat me relentlessly, I couldn’t leave. She would hit me and hit me and hit me. I will never forget the unbearable pain. I would stretch and squirm my body in any way possible to alleviate or change the pain, but she would hold me still as she beat me. I would scream and cry. When I was in my room afterwords, I would cry loudly, and she would come in and tell me that if I didn’t shut up, she was going to beat me again.
When my mother used to beat me relentlessly, I couldn’t leave.
Then I started to leave.
First, I left her.
I packed up my things and left, and didn’t talk to her for years.
I’m 30 years old now. I will be 31 soon.
The last three years have been a blur.
I came to the Big City with two great friends from the Island. Both of them I gave an opportunity to work in my organization. Both I fired.
I remember Ari’s smile, and positivity. Oh God. Oh God how could I do what I did to someone who was so positive. Someone who always went the extra mile. Someone who went out and did things she didn’t have to do to support the mission, just because she believed in it. Working for me helped her financially. I’ll never know how much. I’ll probably never know if she made it or not, and whether or not I made the difference.
And Mish. Oh my God Mish. I loved her more than any male friend I’d ever had. She just wanted to spend time with me. She just wanted to be a part of something I cared about. And when I gave her a chance, it just wasn’t a good fit. But there are so many ways I could have done it better.
Pandemos had been sexually abused as a child. She has genital herpes and took a medication every day to avoid giving it to anyone who dared to love her. She had struggled with borderline personality disorder, anxiety, eating disorders. When I met her she seemed confused, overwhelmed. After three months she still seemed confused, overwhelmed. She begged me not to leave her. I don’t even remember what reason I gave her for why I left. She needed me. She needed me so bad. Even as a friend I could have helped her.
Ji. I remember holding her hand after we left the restaurant where we met. Ji couldn’t even go to a movie without having an anxiety attack. She expressed herself and found herself by hurting herself. She didn’t really ever hurt anyone else. She just loved her white, soft cat. He was more like her than she was like herself. I loved her, and I was so, so scared of her.
And I left her for the same reason I leave everyone. She did something - anything - to threaten, or hurt me. Threaten to hit me once, and if I can leave, I leave. I leave before I am struck, after I’m struck, whenever. I leave as soon as I can, so I can’t feel the pain of being beaten. I’ll even cause myself pain, just to avoid the pain. And how much pain have I caused others?
Cat was the one. She was the most beautiful and sweet woman God ever gave me the opportunity to meet. She was my wife, the mother of my children. On the second date we were wed. She could dance, sing, fuck, cook, work, exercise, eat healthy, travel, snuggle, play with dogs, and above all, she could love. I will never, ever, ever meet anyone like her again. She and I stayed up one night, just talking all night long. Talking about how our mothers abused us. Talking about the islands we loved.
We had so much in common. We loved each other. All she wanted was a husband and children. All she wanted was to be by the fireplace, lying next to her husband on the couch, after they’d put the children to sleep. It would have been the greatest gift God gave me to be that man lying next to her warmth.
She had good breath and fake tits. She could dance, and she had a kindness and compassion that was unmatched. She literally was the most amazing woman I’ve ever loved. The most amazing woman I’ve ever known. The most amazing woman I’ve ever met.
And she had just a little bit of anger. And was just a little bit controlling. In other words, after being abused by her mother for years, she’d wound up a much, much, much better person than I had.
I just tried to call her. In the voicemail, I told her I just wanted to tell her something, and it would only take 30 seconds.
Here’s what I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her
I’m trying to write this, but I don’t know if I have the strength to write this. This is three days I’ve been crying. I’ve barely eaten in three days.
“Cat. Thank you for giving me the chance to talk to you on the phone. There have been a couple times when someone said or did something to hurt me. Someone I loved. I just remember thinking, if they would just come to my door, and knock, that would show me that they truly loved me. That would show me, that we could work through anything. I would open the door, and hug them, and accept them in.
When you parked outside my apartment, and found a way into the building, and came to the door, and knocked. I just sat there. You didn’t give me one chance. You knocked five times.
One of the worst thoughts I’ve ever had in my life, is thinking of how it must feel, to go to the door of someone you love, and knock, and they don’t answer.
Cat I am so so glad that you won’t pick up the phone when I call. I am so so glad that you won’t pick it up in a week, or a month. You’ll block me, or you’ll change your number eventually. And you’ll never get to hear the voice, of the evil man, who made you feel that empty, and that unwanted inside.”
I remember the look on doggy’s face, when he saw me carrying his cage out of your apartment. He knew what it meant. I know your apartment is so empty now. I know it’s quiet, but I bet you’re playing some TV or music. I love you so much Cat. I’m so sorry you met a monster.
I don’t know if I can write this next part. But I have to try.
He used to run around with his little brothers and sisters. One day I came, and he had no fear of me. I had my bracelet, from Africa, and he came up and put his little mouth on it. So I picked him.
When I got him home, I opened up the cage, and he had vomited everywhere and looked so terrified. He had cried the whole way to my apartment. I’ll never forget I took him inside, and showered with him, and dried him off, and held him to my chest in the towel, and kissed him, so many times. And told him I loved him, so many times.
I remember the first time I hit him. I had told him to sit. And he knew what I meant, and what I was asking. It was the first time he had ever willfully disobeyed me. Before, he was learning “sit.” And I was patient as he was learning. But this time he knew what I was asking, and he just didn’t want to sit.
I slapped him, right across the face.
And he immediately sat.
Something clicked in my mind. Abuse, is an effective manner of control.
I used to beat an innocent little puppy, until he peed and pooed everywhere. I have beat him until he bled, several times. I have beat him so hard that I’ve injured my hand, and my foot. I would hold his mouth shut while I hit him so other people couldn't hear. I would drag him around the room, and he would just let me drag him, limp, with his tail in between his legs. I would not feed him for days and days. I would force his head next to a speaker and play terrifying things on the speaker and if he moved I would pick him up all the way in the air and throw him down as hard as I could.
What's amazing is that he's terrified of everyone but me. When he walks outside, he cowers at any small noise. The sight of another person scares him so deeply, he has to run. But he lies right next to me, now, sleeping, right next to me.
I wish God would kill me. I used to wish that he would let me die. But now I want to be killed. I don't think I deserve to go quietly, or painlessly, or quickly. I think I deserve to die very slowly. I think I deserve to feel some of the pain, that I have made other beautiful hearts and souls feel.
When I get hurt, I run and I abandon, and sometimes I lash out. A small hurt within me is propitiated as a world of hurt around me.
But it's not just that. Beneath all that, there is something even more evil. I am an abuser. I am a violent criminal. I hurt the innocent. I beat the innocent, until the point of death.
This is the truth, that I have been running from, for 12 years. 12 years, I have been becoming more and more and more evil, every day. Every single day.
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