Josh always liked this time of the year, so I guess I might as well unwrap this shit and talk about him now.
My first lover and my first victim. I guess he popped my cherry twice.
Oh wait, three times, since he was the one who fucking exposed me to the Tailor in the first place. One day, he started talking about seeing this “ghost” or “demon” or whatever. At first, I thought he was joking, then I thought he was imagining it. Finally, he started showing me pictures and stories of supposed encounters with it. Some were his, some were from other unlucky fucks, posting their last days online. Soon after, the Tailor started appearing to me. You titflickers know how the fucking story goes. He shows up, the proxies follow, the running starts and shit hits the fan. Rinse and fucking repeat.
Me and Josh had been together for a couple of years before all that bullshit, though, so I trusted him. I loved him and I really thought he felt the same way about me. I thought I fucking KNEW him so wherever he ran. I went with him. I was so fucking stupid. Stupid to think we were going to be okay somehow; to let him make me feel safe. But…there were times when he protected me…. Why did he do that?
Maybe he was just keeping me around as an extra set of hands to cover his ass; an emergency meat shield in case we ever got cornered. I guess it sorta worked, since he got away… until we caught up to him a few months later.
He apologized then, but I wonder if he was ever truly sorry for leaving me.
I guess he could have just been half awake and acting on instincts, the night I was taken. There wasn’t much he could have done since the Wolf grabbed me and teleported the fuck out. Maybe it was panic that drove him to justify his actions the way he did. Maybe it’s just easier for me to keep believing that he didn’t care at all and that he deserved to die. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I’m probably giving him more credit than I should. He left me. He didn’t even try to help. I don’t know why I’m suddenly trying to paint him as anything but a cowardly little bitch.
I guess there’s a part of me that wants to believe that someone actually loved me.
This is fucking pathetic. Fuck that bandaged cunt for dragging this shit back up. Wherever he went, I hope he fucking rots there.
These posts you've been making, I can't exactly know what you're going through and why after all this time it was the incident with the bandaged moron that is making you re-visit your past, all I can hope for is that it is being done of your own volition and is not influenced by some mind-fucky shit.
ReplyDeleteAs for Josh, or rather Cockbag, fuck him, pieces of shit like him can rot. The fact that he left you at the mercy of the Wolf without even trying to help you shows that his own safety was a priority, whether he intended to use you as a meat-shield, or not. Selfish shits don't deserve to live, so I wouldn't be to broken up about his fate if I were you.
Fuck him, but above all fuck...
Never mind, you've got plenty of shit going on in your head as is.
Good to hear you're still kicking tho.
I'm just writing this shit out because I don't know what the fuck else to do with it now. For years, I buried what happened under justifications and tried not to think about it because it fucking hurt so much. Then the cancer AIDS dug it up and played it out in front of me and I just... haven't been able to fucking rebury it.
DeleteThanks, it's good to know you're still out there too.
How are you holding up?
Living the glamorous life, got myself a job as a janitor, not much else to say tbh.
DeleteStopped getting shit-faced is a bonus I guess, though the urge is still there.
Good. That's good. And I really fucking get that. Sometimes, I think about how much I'd love to just drink myself into a stupor and forget all this shit for a little while, but I know that would only fuck me over in the long run. I'm never going down that hole again and neither should you
DeleteI never in my wildest nightmares would have thought that you and I would have something in common. But of course, here we are I guess.
ReplyDeleteThe first person I loved was also the one that introduced me to the boss. Though, I never followed her into a running phase, didn't get the chance to. She died too quickly for that.
I was also the one that killed her. Though in a far less literal way than you're talking about.
You're thinking about him now because you're lonely, and now's the time of year for it. I know because the same thing happens to me from time to time, and when you're looking back like that it's hard not to question every aspect.
Could I have done more? Have I made the right choices? Have I done the right things? Did she really love me?
You'll drive yourself crazy (crazier) with questions like those, because chances are you'll never get real answers.
Shucks. Now I'm depressed too.
Merry Christmas though, I guess, from one fuck up to another.
~Rabbit
How the fuck do you kill someone in a "less literal" way?
DeleteYeah, yeah, Merry fucking Christmas
That was an issue of phrasing.
DeleteI wasn't the one that directly killed her, but...
Someone's death can be on your hands even if you aren't the one that held the knife that did it, understand?
~Rabbit