I’m Not Allowed To Complain

I’m not allowed to complain. 
I don’t write this journal to complain. 
I certainly don’t make it public to complain to everyone. 

I’m not allowed to complain because it would be a lie. I don’t run away from him, I run to him. And everything that happens to me is because I allow it to happen. So when he hits me or assaults me, it’s really because I allowed it. 

I’m not allowed to complain, because I like it. I fucking like it, and I think that’s pretty fucked up of me. Today I woke from a dream . . . I had a dream he killed me, and I woke up excited. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. But there is definitely something wrong with me. 

I’m not stupid, I know this relationship is psychodrama. I know that I’m a good girl (I have been all my life) and I know I “deserve better”. But I just can’t help giving into him every time. I also know this love is going to consume me and sooner or later he’s going to hurt me very badly. I’m not ‘textbook’ delusional. I don’t have a dream of marrying him, living in the suburbs, and having a beautiful family with him. I have a dream of that happening as much as I have a dream of Narcissus telling me to look at myself – it’s funny-tragic-hopeful-dreaming. I know I love a monster, and I know he’s never going to return the love I give him. I also know it’s quite pathetic to write about it in a public journal. But I can’t keep it to myself, I need to open up and let the bad shit out so I can see how bad it is on the inside. And I wouldn’t dare speak or mention a word of this to my family or friends. 

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