Him vs Her

Chapter 67

I grab my journal off out of my bag and begin writing - that always made me feel better. I stain the pages and smug the ink with the tears that lifelessly fall from my eyes. 

I always dreamt of finding love - even though I never quite admitted it. It starts with words. Fuck. It always starts with words, doesn't it? Everything does - even something as pure as love.

I love you. What a laugh. What an actual joke. Hell, even this, started with words. Even I am using words to get a voice. I don't forgive people who make me taste the salt of my own tears. People who cause me to bite my pillow as I struggle to hide the sound of my sobbing only postponed by my drawing of a breath. People who are so cowardice that their only solution is violence. And I know I might seem like a hypocrite and that's the last thing I want to be, but I really do not condone violence. Not anymore at least. I don't forgive you, lover. If I can even call you that anymore.

Especially not when you think you can terrorise me into feeling helpless and get off scot-free.

"I never touched you," that lie slips so smoothly out of your lips, no it's just that the table you pushed with me sitting behind it, whose marks I felt, the wall my back hit as the chair fell with me on it seem to think otherwise. But you don't mind because I don't matter.

I don't know what I believe I am accomplishing by writing this, but maybe if I say my piece without any twists will make me powerful, these words will come alive. People who refuse to admit they did anything wrong, people who think we are overreacting or got what we deserved.

But there is no reason on this planet earth that I can fathom that would justify that a man should hit a woman. It is just not done. The evil of all evils.

Even though, I, tonight, meant nothing, less than nothing. These actions will come back to haunt you.

You had a rough childhood; oh, so you doing this is justified - no, you are not a human being. No human being would have acted like you did tonight. No rational person would have done with you did tonight. So for reasons that remain clear as the tears that wet my shirt - you are not a human being. It is beyond me how you manage to sleep at night knowing what you did, that you are culpable for this. How you can remain so unchanged, so unevolved that you somehow believed that this was right - that that was your right - to put hands on me - oh right, to push a table so far against me that the chair falls and my back hits the wall, then the ground. But you didn't touch me, so my bad, my mistake - what a frivolous technicality. Oh, it was the table's fault, wasn't it?

Oh, did that make you feel strong like you were something like you were a man? You're not, you're a little piece of garbage that not even the garbage truck bothers with picking. You are a diminished idea of the things a man should not be. You are a child, consumed by ideas of what a man should be - strong. You are a joke, a shell of a man - you do not deserve the title of a 'man'. You disappoint your own gender.

Are these the men we dream of marrying, we dream will sweep us off our feet and rush to protect us? Are these the men who will father our children? Well shit, now I understand the people that refuse to get married. What an utter joke.

One of the reasons why I wanted to get stronger was this 'incident' you would call it, but really it was an 'attack'. So that he would never be able to put his hands on me and survive crawling away unscathed - that I'd win this fight and every other until he finally gave up altogether and left me the hell alone. I will not forget this and if he thought I would, he was sorely mistaken.

I feel mad and sad and hopeless. 

And we were scared of the monsters under our beds. Ha! So, instead, we let it inside it right in our houses because at least we can see it then - know what to be afraid of - put a face to it all.