He used to hate when my laugh was too loud. Like he'd grumble, sometimes even raise his voice. If you know Zackary then you know he's very expressive. You'll know him when you hear him. Me though, it was different. When I got passionate about music, or politics, or experienced my miniscule moments of a step towards healing from my monsters; he'd be there reminding me I was being too much. I was too loud. I was too emotional. I was too crazy, but he loves crazy chicks. They're his type. What does that even mean? Seriously, what does that mean? Does he like mentally ill women because they are easier to abuse? Does he enjoy driving (haha) women crazy? Does it turn him on? Get him nice and hard. Then he can choke the shit out of them. Is that what he did with me? That doesn't seem like love.
So now I have to figure that I loved a man. I dated and lived with that man for 3 years; a man that hated me. A man that hates women.
Every day that his behaviors are enabled by his mom, his aunt, his sisters; take them and bundle them up. You've discovered a treasure chest of Rupees; each one a resentment. Every fucking day he hates himself for his failures and blames women, and that hate comes out in his relationships. He used to joke about how he should have turned out a serial killer. He had all of the warning signs. An abusive childhood, his unfocused energy, and his enjoyment of harming animals. It was a topic joked about as I sat around the dinner table. His stutter brought on by pure fear from his abuse, joked about as I sat right there on the kitchen chair while his mom and sisters just laughed.
I didn't laugh. I hope he remembers that.
I didn't laugh.
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