I’m a fucking glutton for pain.
Yes I took him back, like I always fucking do.
Last night, ….fuck my life!!!!….last night we went out to a club in downtown and we were having a few shots, meeting up with some of his “acquaintances” (as he calls them) and basically being normal for once….for ONCE. Well it didn’t take long for that shit to go awry …afuckinggain. To be perfectly honest, I was having flash backs of last time we were in this situation and I had a bad feeling, so I started tossing them back like water. As the night went on I was actually having a fun time out dancing and not being miserable for once. I don’t really know what happened, but he and his cronies left the club. Fucking left me behind, with no word or warning. I tried calling him but he wouldn’t pick up. I waited around for a fucking hour to see if he was coming back. Then it was last call and I just got an uber to drive me home. Then I had the most brilliant idea ever, to drive me to his house. So I get driven over there and I can already tell he’s home, there’s a blacklight party in the backyard. I’m so fucking angry I want to cry. Low and behold, Ramsay is fucking there between his friends and some sluts getting drunk and playing games. He saw me walking into his house, and follows me into the kitchen. Before I can get any fucking word out he drags me by my hand to the second floor bedroom. I start going off on him, asking him what the fuck his problem is. I was holding back the tears. Then he told me “well you seemed pretty pleased with yourself dancing on all those men. did you get done fucking them?” I start to laugh at how stupid he is and how angry I am, and just without thinking I start to laugh. He got angry and he grabbed my face again and started calling me a slut. I told him that he’s a fucking idiot, and that he’s fucking psychotic and stupid. and i remember he just started to come at me like last time, like how he was going to hurt me last time so i grabbed a long heavy glass vase near me and i told him to back the fuck up. fuck im so fucking weak. i got scared because i remembered last time. then he started to look at the floor and backed away. He told me how much he loves me, and how he hates to see me with anyone else. He told me it drives him crazy to think about me with anyone else, he tells me loves me and he wants me, and he needs me. I give in. And he kisses me sweetly and gently and he took the vase away from me. before i knew it he smashed it on the ground, and back handed me so hard I fell backwards. And my nose started gushing blood. I am so fucking weak and pathetic, I told him I loved him no matter what. He looked at me sitting on the floor, blood running down my face; and his eyes were kind now. But he turned around and locked me in.
What did I do?
I fucking broke down crying, using my sweater as rag to soak up the blood, and I curled into a fucking ball on the floor and I cried hoping to god he would come back and just fucking see how much I love him. and like always I started to get fucking mad at myself, he hurts me so badly, and i love him so deeply. i just fucking broke down crying so hard, i cant understand myself. and you know what? the thought of calling the police never even crossed my mind. i had my phone, I carry an extra charger in my purse at all times, but still I never considered calling for help. i just fucking walked to the bathroom and washed my face and sat in the corner praying to god he’d save me. when he sobered up he walked into the room and laid down on the bed, he didn’t even say a word to me. just laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I just sat in the corner watching him, too scared to take a breath. he had left the door opened, and after about 5 minutes of laying motionless in a blank stare, he got up and walked up the stares to the third floor. did I leave? did I run home and cry myself to sleep? no. i walked after him. and. hugged him and kissed him. and spoke softly. i told him i was sorry. i apologized to him. i kissed him and told him how much i love him, how he owns my heart. I love him. Fuck my stupid heart, but I love him. And I feel so dead without him. I don’t know what he did to me, but I fucking love him. I don’t love being talked down to and smacked around, he’s not usually like this. He was never like this. He was the complete opposite of this. and I know that part of him. I just love him too much to abandon him when he needs me at his worst.
I write this journal because I can’t talk to my family or friends about this. They don’t even know what’s going on behind closed doors. Outside of the house, and in the streets, everyone knows how intelligent, eloquent, and how much of a gentleman he is. He’s so charismatic, all of my friends and family love him. His birthday is coming up and my mom just texted me that she wants to cook a dinner for him. I almost have to laugh when I read texts like that in the morning, when last night . . . if she only knew. That’s why I always think ‘if only your friends knew you, like I know you’. If you were to meet him in the streets you would be immediately attracted to him, men – he makes friends everywhere he goes and so easily, women – they always flirt with him – it doesn’t have anything to do with his looks, he’s attractive, but it’s his charisma that just oozes out of him. You would never guess how violent he is.
And then I feel like I had a revelation. I just know that loving him is really really hard, but I love him with every cell in my body and so completely. I feel so dead without him. And when I’m with him it’s electric, and the world just seems so much more exotic, and colorful, and extravagant . . . it’s hard to describe. When he keeps the bad side away. But no matter what, I can’t fix him. I can’t make him better. And then I realized it. I love the bastard. He’s like fire, and when he burns me it feels so good. I guess I’m more fucked up in the head than he is.