One in four women (25%) has experienced domestic violence in her lifetime.
Entry in personal journal on August 9, 2011
I should be sleeping. It’s too late and it’s too early.
Overtime I’ve thought of you, I felt sorry for you. Now I’m angry because I,unlike you,love me.
There where no days of bliss with you. You started molding my idea of you by lying. You try to love but alas you fail. You don’t know what love is,you only know hate. You may think the world owes you something,well it does. You deserve every heartbreak and every terror that lies in the back of your mind.
I have a lot of things to say to you but none of it matters now because I do not care about you or like you. I don’t feel sorry for you. You make so sick. Sick because you are evil, an impostor.You look perfectly unharmful and act perfectly.
I do now see that I never loved you. It was your fault. You lied to me. I fell for a trick. You on your stool looking down at others,always judging. I could pick you apart all day and find nothing worthy of being good.
I no longer feel threaten by you. I suppose I felt sorry for you because you at one point had been sicken by another. I thought I should forgive and let go.
You where there penetrating my mind,staring into a screen. You are a social-path. You’re a wicked, feeble and spineless haunted spirit.
You will bow down. You are taking this shot. I’m firing with a big gun. I got you locked and loaded. I am not afraid to pull the trigger.
I hate you.