He's changed. He loves me now. He understands. All it took was to wrench the deepest darkest secret out of my heart and put it on a platter before him. Now he wants me to talk through it with my mother, with a therapist, with everyone. FUCK THAT. I want to rebury everything, I don't even know what's in that hole, I can only see the surface dirt.
He's changed. He understands. He loves me so much now. Now he's quiet and brings me things. Now he holds my hand. Now he strokes my back. Now he makes sure we are doing something I want to do. Now he tiptoes around me and tells me he loves me so much. He loves me so much, Jen. I love you so much, Jen. Please don't leave. Please don't push me away. I want to help. You need help.
I wish he would fucking scream at me and tear me apart and call me names and hurt me.
Because then I could leave.
Instead I'm guilty. So much guilt. All the time. I can't take it.
If he loves me so much, then why do I want to die now?
IT'S NOT TRUE
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