This day used to mean something to me. It was a special day. I always look forward to celebrating. Thirteen years. Then, I found out it was an illusion. She was using me to create her personal fantasy.
I did not know what a narcissist was until I met her. Everything was always about her. She was physically and mentally abusive, but blamed it on me. Her dreams subdued mine. She thought her family was better than mine, even though she hated her family. But they were rich. It was always her parents' house for Christmas. It was her archaic religion over mine. I had to do this, and I had to do that, or I was out. I should have left long ago but I had hope.
For 16 years, I've taken a shot of Crown Royal on this day. Pretending it was a bullet. I quit drinking, because my liver is almost gone and my kidneys are shot. Today, I will take a shot to prune juice and leave a pile in memory of her. Happy birthday Jezebel. Have they named an STD after you yet?
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