ALL TRU!SM:

Not only did he sabotage my courtship with a woman who was certainly the only chance I ever had of getting laid in twenty years. He then date raped this woman, whom I loved, leaving her to die of paranoia, augmenting those suicidal ideations which had driven me to her protection to begin with and which probably had drawn her Soul towards me, seeking sanction. As my life dissolved in trying to salvage her and repair the damage, he exploited her perverse attachment to him with both utter pride and apathy, even besmirching her image, calling her “demonic”, most probably well after they had slept together five times and under the influence of drugs which he’d supplied. Though I offered him recourse and lease, he used the opportunity to demonstrate a sort of dominance, so that when her attempts to win his favor failed, her life depending on success, he not only refused to help, but he accused me of having produced this travesty. Whereas ordinarily my guilty conscience is my guide towards transcendence, for the first time in my life I think I found it turned against me, for he managed to reach such a depth of sheer depravity that I felt guilty by default of being in his species, and of course his outlook was such that I was simply the lesser male of this same species’ gene pool. Years I’ve spent trying to remedy deficiencies which never were my own, only under the burden of a concept that he could not prove but that I could no more disprove than extricate from my mind or undo. If ever my good graces had been more abused, they were by my ex-girlfriend, someone whom he cannot claim to be an unrelated anecdote revealing something of my character, for it was she that he would use to justify his treachery, though never had he done a thing to shelter me from her own malice, and the time that past since she broke up with me was greater by each measurement than that which has past since I met this recent tragedy I called my one true love. When I learned that she was involved with him again, against my wishes and her promise to me, by some blackmail or delusion, I confronted him as best I could, only to learn that some expressions of my tortured heart, which by then reached a pitch of hatred I had not imagined possible previously, and towards him, had found their way into his knowledge, so that somehow by being presented as a “hateful message” TOWARDS her one might think that the hate was INTENDED FOR her (for if this had not been true, his argument would have been foolish, and transparently so, but the good graces of any audience, the living proof that his worldview is mad, would hear only that which accords him undue dignity, turning his pointless truth into a pointed lie). I never hated her. Her weakness simply angered me. 

For it destroyed her ultimately. 

It was not long after she had died that he began to use another woman. Somehow he had established himself as the alpha male, reducing all my desperation, first to help, then to love, then to save, to impotence and to inferiority. Somehow I had to wrestle with the World which he had turned against me in my mind and often in reality, herself included. Somehow I felt guilty for her death, though not because his accusations carried any weight, but rather because it was through me that he met her, and that same fact which reminds me of my innocence now burdens me with guilt, for I was not the only victim of my trust and my naivete. He cleared his name, in petty semblance, of moral inferiority, condemning even my own righteous condescension to his foregone and ignoble dominance. My single plan, my solitary goal, justified by a Great Agenda which I only dimly comprehended, was to keep My Love alive. This plan he vilified, condemning her to die in utter solitude even as he dismissed my moral high ground in attempting to protect her, as if that ground were equally his own.

Did I mention that he vandalized my keyboard? It was a birthday present from my parents when I was first starting to compose in high school. I played it for my Hero’s Journey presentation in Ms. Rowan’s class. I wrote my first few songs upon it. We would jam with it when I still craved his company within my band. I brought it to his Mother’s Condominium under the auspices of getting that same band together, since she needed it. It took me many moons to get it back. I live ten minutes from his home. But he’s not one to answer when it’s inconvenient for him to do so.

Anyone who can respect him is a suicidal wreck. I cannot say I scapegoat him, for I own all of my own darkness in this exposition, clear about how he attempted to use that same darkness to subvert and contradict my Light. It’s either him or me. He made that clear. All of my life has been a preparation for this battle. If there’s any life beyond this, either in this lifetime or the next, it will come only when his reign is over.

I survive just to survive him.

Dm.A.A.