When The Darkness Takes Us: Jess's Story

He Archived the Posts

I'm so angry. I'm so angry. How could you do that? How could you...why would you? Why do you hate me so much?

I stare at the ceiling and an emotion creeps over me.

And now I'm wincing, remembering my mom. When I was seven...eight...she throws the lights on. It's the middle of the night. She rips the blankets off me and screams in my face. 'I hate you! I fucking hate you! I don't know why I had you! I hate you and I hate this life and you're so fucking ungrateful! Such an ugly, retarded, ungrateful little shit!'

I blink at the ceiling. I don't know why I'm thinking about her, when I'm so mad at him. Him.

But he was so great. He was so sweet. So smart. So funny. So brave. Always said whatever he thought. Didn't care what anybody said about him.

He was great and...he hated me...and he laughed at me.

Crazy-posting. Go away. Not a big part of his life. Not a big part of his life. Not a big part of his life. Not a big part. Not a big part. Does not love her. Go away. Does not love her. Crazy-posting. If this escalates.

I hate him. I think I hate him.

And I hate that I'm supposed to have no right to hate him, because I'm not a big deal to him. Because I'm the one who let my feelings get so out-of-control.

He's wrong too and I know he is. No decent person would mess with someone who had feelings for them. No decent person would laugh at someone who caught feelings for them. Even if it's ridiculous that I have feelings. Even it's so absolutely unhinged. A decent person would go away. They'd realize that my broken brain has attached some incredible importance to them, and even if it shouldn't be there, they'd go away and give me time to get myself back together.

He didn't though. He didn't though. He didn't though.

This great man. This man I thought was everything. He wasn't that great.

Or...he is exactly that great. And you're such a pathetic, sorry sack of shit that even great people treat you like nothing.

That's not true. Great people treat everyone decently. They have integrity. They-

For everyone but you. There are different rules for you than there are for other people. You are terrible.

I need to stop I need to stop I need to stop stop stop stop

You should kill yourself.

Stop stop stop it

You have that woman's gun.

It's true. I do have it. I'm holding it right now. I'm laying on my floor and staring at the ceiling and holding the cold metal. All while poor Linda calls and calls 911, telling them her roommate has broken ribs and needs an ambulance.

"Don't bother," I whisper. But she doesn't hear me.

I look at the gun. I look into the barrell. It would be so quick...I'm such a joke. I'm such a joke. Of course he laughed at me. I deserve to be laughed at. I'm ridiculous. Who gets such strong feelings for someone over the internet? Who does that? Me. And it's so absurd. It's not normal. I should die. I should die. This is what I should do.

I'm crying again and I don't remember starting. It's only that I just now noticed the hot tears on my skin.

My husband didn't want me. He didn't want me.

I loved him.

Probably nobody would believe me that I loved him, because I tried to desperately fling myself at a fucking incel and then blew up my relationship with my husband. I did love him though...I do love him.