I Had To Kill Her

She was weak. She was broken. She would do anything for anybody except herself. She made herself small in rooms filled with ants. She dimmed her light in every room she felt she would shine too bright in. She was a coward. She was a fool. She talked when she should have been observing. She kept no secrets for herself. She told her truth to anyone who would listen regardless of their intentions. She had no control over her emotions. She was stubborn. She was lost. She was distracted. She was unsure. She was selfish. She was loud. She was obnoxious. She was impatient. She wasn’t me.

I never thought of myself as someone who could commit murder. Someone who could kill someone in broad daylight. Someone who could take a life away and not think twice about it. Well—I shouldn’t say I didn’t think twice—after all—she has been with me my entire life. It’s just over time—things got progressively worse and I didn’t really have any other option. It was a life-or-death type of situation. I didn’t think I had it in me. I grew from that weakness and muscled up the strength to get rid of her…for good.

She tormented my every step—my every thought. She wouldn’t let me grow. She was suffocating me and comforting me at the same time. She was a safe haven and a crutch, a friend and an enemy. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I knew it had to be done. I no longer had room for her in my life; she was no longer useful to me. She made me happy in strange times and wiped my tears in dark times. Although, the majority of the dark times she manifested. She brought them on. She was the culprit. She manipulated me. She stole years from me that I can never get back. She broke hearts that I can never fix. She told lies—those lies ruined lives. She ended friendships before they even started. She destroyed everything that was good. She had control for too long and I had to do something about it. This was an emergency. At this point, I wasn’t concerned about the consequences. I didn’t care about judgment. I didn’t care if people didn’t understand why I would do such a thing.

If I had made this decision a long time ago—maybe I wouldn’t have had a reason to write this book. I had to learn to take the good with the bad. Learn that exposing myself is real freedom. I know to some—committing such a crime is surely a life sentence, but for me, I was finally going to be free of her grip. Free of her madness and I’d never be trapped that way again.

She never believed in me. She ran to other people to hear what they thought about me. She listened and she trusted. She sought out other people’s judgment to the point she couldn’t even hear her own thoughts. She didn’t know her own thoughts apart from other people. I was the one who suffered the most from that. I didn’t have a chance to fight for myself. To gain control again. Her emotions were everywhere and whenever she lost control, I was the punching bag. I wanted to be more in tune with my spirituality while she wanted to question everything. She would say she was putting things into perspective, but whenever it was time to make an actual decision—to believe in something, she’d run to other people to see what they believed. She’d simply trust whatever research they had done—instead of learning for herself. Literally base her life upon other people’s experiences as if she didn’t have her own to sort through and to understand. She didn’t know who she was because she kept looking for herself in everyone she met. She gave herself to everyone and I mean the most intricate parts of a human…she’d give away… freely and without a second thought. Except when it was just me and her alone. She cries in a corner over shame and marijuana. She’d allow herself to make the same mistakes and instead of changing, she’d simply smoke a joint to ease the pain, but she never learned. I was tired of pitying her and seeing her do this to herself and dragging me down with her. I knew one day I would throw away all her silly invites to her pity parties and burn them in a fire. I knew one day I’d break free from this toxic relationship.

Whenever I let my mind wander long enough—I make excuses for her. I give her more power by finding reason in her actions when there is none. I wanted nothing to do with her—she would be a part of my past buried forever. I knew I’d never forget her, and I even enjoyed the idea of putting a teardrop under my eye in her memory but even that was too deep. She didn’t deserve all the dramatics for what she put me through, she just deserved to be gone. Maybe I didn’t hate her, but I know I didn’t love her. She complained of her misery so much—I figured I’d be doing her a favor. I heard her silent cries of suicide—I knew she was hurting from a deeper part from within—I knew she needed love but the way she was going about it was all wrong. I knew if I didn’t help—her experience of Earth would continue to be as it’s always been—harsh and unfulfilling. She was so hard to understand, and it was even harder to get her to listen to you. She would just blabber off at the mouth—never thinking before the next sentence escaped her lips. It always ended in the same moment…with her regretting everything she ever said.

It didn’t matter if she believed her intentions were good—if you keep hurting people with those good intentions—what difference does it make? Vulnerability is a blessing but if overused it will become a lesson and boy did she learn that. Every secret she ever had about herself—every ounce of personal business she had got exposed because her discernment meter was off. Guess who had to stay up with her all night to hear her weeping of regret and how idiotic she must have been for trusting random people. It was me—I was tired of staying up with the moon—tired of letting her take all my energy. I was tired of trusting her to change knowing she couldn’t do it on her own. She wanted the pain to be over and so did I, but she was addicted. She’d complain and promise change to herself and me and within a month’s time we were in the same spot again.

I’ve lost jobs due to her nonsense. I’ve abandoned contracts due to her negligence. I’ve missed opportunities due to her insecurities. If I let her live—I’d lose a lot more.

Thank you for taking the time to read this-I wrote this to myself because I reached my breaking point. Digging deep within yourself can get super ugly. This is not a suicide note, or a cry for help. This is me saving myself.