Three years ago, this could have been me.
This hits home, because Bonnie Speece was the human resources director for the library system I once worked in. She came to the library right before I left. I don't remember if I ever met her, but I feel for her nonetheless. I knew terror. I knew despair. I contemplated just driving away one day, driving until I ran out of gas and never going back. I contemplated a lot of things back then.
It could have been me. The possibility was there. Things could have gone horribly wrong and I could not be sitting here at my computer this evening. I could have been dead.
See? See what you could have done? (He still reads this blog once or so every month, contrary to my wishes. So I know he'll read this. If I allowed him to post a comment, I'm sure he would do so. But he's been banned from posting, and if he figures out a way around it, I'll devowel him again.)
He told me once that restraining orders were nothing. That if I got one against him, he'd make sure I'd suffer for it. That if he went to jail, it was no big deal, and that I'd end up with all our debt combined.
I started to post a rant the last time I noticed his unwanted presence here, but then I decided he wasn't worth the effort of posting a rant.
I still believe that. However, I can't stay silent, either. I can't pretend it never happened, because it did.
See what you could have done? I realize you didn't, but the possibility will always be there, won't it?
And while I'm on the subject, why don't you just go away? Permanently. Live your life and leave me mine. You owe me that much, at the very least.
One of these days, I hope you realize and accept what you did to me. To yourself. But I'm not holding my breath. I have work to do.
This hits home, because Bonnie Speece was the human resources director for the library system I once worked in. She came to the library right before I left. I don't remember if I ever met her, but I feel for her nonetheless. I knew terror. I knew despair. I contemplated just driving away one day, driving until I ran out of gas and never going back. I contemplated a lot of things back then.
It could have been me. The possibility was there. Things could have gone horribly wrong and I could not be sitting here at my computer this evening. I could have been dead.
See? See what you could have done? (He still reads this blog once or so every month, contrary to my wishes. So I know he'll read this. If I allowed him to post a comment, I'm sure he would do so. But he's been banned from posting, and if he figures out a way around it, I'll devowel him again.)
He told me once that restraining orders were nothing. That if I got one against him, he'd make sure I'd suffer for it. That if he went to jail, it was no big deal, and that I'd end up with all our debt combined.
I started to post a rant the last time I noticed his unwanted presence here, but then I decided he wasn't worth the effort of posting a rant.
I still believe that. However, I can't stay silent, either. I can't pretend it never happened, because it did.
See what you could have done? I realize you didn't, but the possibility will always be there, won't it?
And while I'm on the subject, why don't you just go away? Permanently. Live your life and leave me mine. You owe me that much, at the very least.
One of these days, I hope you realize and accept what you did to me. To yourself. But I'm not holding my breath. I have work to do.
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