But the Scary Part Is That I Love Him So Much More Now.

I just had one of the most intense conversations with my boyfriend. I feel indifferent, I don’t know how to feel now. I feel a type of happiness because he opened up to me. And he’s never, ever, ever in all the time that I’ve know him (which has been a while) I’ve never known anything about his background or family, besides the surface level. 

I don’t know, it was a lot of information and I am still trying to process this in my mind. So I think it’s good to write this out. Today we were just hanging out at his home, I didn’t have school and he didn’t work today so we were just enjoying each other’s company. I think he was under the influence, of what I don’t, some kind of prescription drug. And he was drinking heavily. Thankfully he was staying away from the brown liquor. Every time he drinks brown liquor he goes crazy. But today was a good day, and it started out a good day. And I guess he was in a good mood. He kept drinking and drinking and drinking. He started to get really drunk be he was very alert. That’s why I suspect he was under the influence of something. 

We started to talk about my family, and how I miss them already. They were here for less than a full week because my father had a work emergency so they all had to leave back to Sweden. And he was drunk by now, so he was just listening to me talk about how I much love them. And out of no where he asked me if I wanted to know about his family. For starters, I don’t know a lot about his family, if anything, all he ever told me before was that he had a father, a brother, and himself.  I didn’t know what happened to his mother, I knew his brother was dead, and his father I believe is either in prison or dead. Unlike me, I’m Swedish just living in the US to attend university. But Ramsay, he was born and raised in Sweden, until he moved with his family to California when he was 12 years old. That’s as much as I know about his family, and he’s never mentioned them before. So as he started to get even more drunk than usual, he also started to share a few things. He was saying how he hasn’t seen his father since he was taken into government care. Which that was a shocker on it’s own to me,  I didn’t even know he was in foster care. So I started to ask him more about his life and what happened to his parents. He told me that he lived in Sweden with his father and his brother and mother. At first I had to ‘coo’ him into revealing more because he was starting to get into these moments of hallucination or glaring or intensive stares, I don’t know what to call them. I think he was ‘tripping’ I don’t know. But I asked him what happened to his mother and then he just started to tell me everything. 

He said that his mother was a loving woman, and he only has good memories of her. But she had breast cancer and died when he was five years old or so. His father was abusive, and would always physically beat all 3 of them. He told me that he and his brother would grow up in isolation, because his dad would homeschool them. But when Sweden banned the private homeschooling completely they moved to California. His father had money and they were well off for the most part. But he was alcoholic and abusive. Then he started sharing more and it’s really starting to fuck with my head now. Ughh. He told me that he didn’t even know he was a “freak” until his older brother pointed it out. He said that it was his older brother Mattias that “pointed out the fact that I was a little bit psychopathic”. When he said that it just sent chills up my spine. I feel bad for feeling bad. but idk. But he went on. He said “it’s not like I was born to be a psychopath. I was purely made. And um. I see the differences. I see people get all emotional and sentimental and I don’t understand that kind of thing. That doesn’t compute for me. ” I have these words burned into my fucking head now. It’s just fucking with me. Then he started to talk about his brother. He told me that his brother was the only other person that ever looked out for him in his entire life, and that he missed him. I asked him how his brother passed away, and he just looked me dead in the eyes and said “my father killed him”. I was shocked. I just. I was just shocked. I was just thinking ‘OMFG’. Now, he had already told me that his father killed his older brother, but he was very high that time and I didn’t know whether or not to believe him. In the end, I discredited it. So when he told me again, I was just thinking WHAT THE FUUUUCK!!!! in my head. He told me that when he was around fourteen or fifteen years old, he saw his father kill his brother. i think his brother was a year or two older than him when it happened. he said that his brother and father got into a fist fight when the father wanted to rape his brother’s girlfriend. And they started to fight, and the father just ended up stabbing him multiple times in the stomach. And he told me he saw it all happen. And when he saw his brother bleeding to death, and heard his cries, he just “stood back observing the life in his eyes go out”. OMG at this point, i was already crying. and now it’s just fucking replaying in my head, I just want to write it out and get it out. I don’t want to be thinking about this shit all day because it is starting to fuck with my head, but at the same time i’m just like “OMG OMG OMG ” right now.

I was afraid to ask anymore, but I didn’t want to tell him to stop either. i was just getting scared at this point though. and very sad. By then I started to drink with him too. And I asked him if he missed his brother, and he told me “yes, but not like the way you miss your family. more like the way, you miss a friend”. He went on about his brother. He said “when my brother passed away… didn’t affect me that much. it was kind of expected. it did hurt there for a bit. but then. um. i think that being a psychopath, i think the thing that hurt the most was when my dog passed away. i still lament his death. but even having watched him die and being covered in his blood. because i was the one that dragged him down to give him cpr. it doesn’t affect me. like see, you’re crying right now. and you’re emotional and this is affecting you in a emotional level. it doesn’t for me. and he was my brother.” i was really crying now. fuck, i’m starting to tear up again. and he said “it’s difficult to explain. if you happen to anger somebody like me. you don’t really know. i don’t want to hurt you. which is why i leave you. i abandon you sometimes. when i start to get into rage filled days i just leave. last time. remember last time? i was going to hurt you so badly, so i left. i don’t enjoy hurting you but i don’t feel anything”. fuck. i was really scared. just listening to this shit, and even now i still have the chills. and i’m still tearing up.

By now I was starting to freak out internally but I just held it in, and teared up just trying my hardest to not break down crying. I felt bad for him, i felt bad for what he was saying, and at the same time grateful he was opening up. and i asked him what happened when he was diagnosed as a psychopath. and he told me that after he was taken into child services around fifteen he was scheduled to see a therapist including for the trauma he had witnessed. he told me that the medical term they gave him was anti-social personality disorder with an impulse control problem. But he told me “I’m grateful that I am a psychopath. If I wasn’t a psychopath I wouldn’t have survived my upbringing. When i was ten years old i slept naked in an old barn that was in the property. there was only two horses and a dozen chickens. my father kicked me out of the house because he caught me masturbating. and he told me if i was going to be an animal he was going to treat me like one. all the fucking nightmares that was my childhood, all the beatings, all the broken bones, and all the violence. the fact that i grew up in a racist nazi-swedish family. all that shit that i went through is normal to me.  i didn’t have any dreams when i was young. i didn’t have any hopes. whatever you want to call them. the only thing i wanted was it to end. and it didn’t end. so i externalized my situation and i engineered myself. i rose to the challenge. my brother on the other hand, he was kind, resilient, he was the opposite of me and my father. me and my father, we were both psychopaths. he was more of a religious fascist psychopath, but a psychopath nonetheless. my brother  lived in a house with two psychopaths. and he ended up being murdered for it. i went to Caltech and became a chemical engineer, go fucking figure.” 

OMG. by this point i was quiet, sitting on the sofa, and just nursing my glass of whiskey. fuck, this is depressing me. but it didn’t stop there. he started to get really quiet, and then he just asked me if i was okay. i told him i was a little fucked up (tipsy) and just tired. the truth was was that i was fucking scared, freaked out, and sad. i asked him if he loved me. he turned to look at me and said ‘i love fucking you”. then he just laughed. and laughed. and laughed. i fake giggled, and i felt bad. then he told me ”Anette, it’s a joke” and he just started laughing out loud even harder. ‘you’re not going to live long if you don’t learn to laugh’, and then he started laughing again. he was just being an asshole like he knows how. 

The reality is that I am really freaked out and I don’t know how to feel, how to react, or how to process any of this. afterwards i guess he saw that i was disturbed.  i kept trying to avoid him, so that it wasn’t so obvious. but i guess that made it more obvious. he corned me and said ‘i love you like i love vd’. and then just laughed. again. being an asshole.  i was just freaked out and i left. i came home, to my house. but i knew he was going to show up here sooner or later and drag me back to his old, decrepit, haunted-looking, rotting old musky mansion. more like an old smelly coffin. so i’m staying at a hotel in santa monica. i drove all the way over here to make sure i am completely away from him. no more crawling on my knees back to his lap in the middle of the night. i just need to settle this shit in my head. i can’t get it out. it’s starting to fuck with my head. and i think i just need to be alone and process this. 

i posted his picture (yes, that’s him in the picture) because he’s so fucking handsome and perfect on the outside. i didn’t know looks could be so deceiving. but i don’t even know what to be attracted to anymore. i’m starting to see him for what he really looks like on the inside. it’s making me sick. and scared. but the scary part is that i love him so much more now. 

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