You see all of those ” HOME SWEET HOME ” signs, they are cute; I just wish I could hang one. But this home, isn’t so sweet anymore. It is filled with regrets, unsaid words, not needed said words, horrible actions, now it comes with a stalker & his little elves. I do not feel peace inside of my home anymore, I do not relax, sleeping is rare, smiling INSIDE is hard, I am constantly looking out the window, paranoid. I have had my safe place stolen from me, by an evil selfish person.
Who will see this, and either make a status, send me an email because he is blocked everyone else, message my ex again to try and ruin, I don’t even know what?, make a tik tok about me OR get someone else to torment me. FUN STUFFS. not.
I feel very unsettled all the damn time, every time my phone goes off I tense up, a truck drives by I am pretty much in tears or throwing up, my dogs go nuts because they are so used to the ciaos now. I have letters, emails, texts literally stating what I was doing INSIDE my own house, filled with assumptions and nasty words. I have a BIKE in my damn shed because he decided to fuck with my 6 year olds head.
Amazon has my back thankfully, when it comes to flipping and fixing my house. The look of it anyways, but we all know fixing the body doesn’t fix the motor SO kinda the same thing in the house, the walls LOOK good, paints fresh, everything new. But inside those walls, under the floor boards. Its rotten, filled with all of those things we’ve been trying to ” cover up “, because that will never fix the root of anything. So think about this as your life, from the outside looking in, your life is amazing, that’s what everyone wants other people to think, no one wants to wear their problems. But sadly that is not the case, you can smile while dying on the inside, just like driving with no oil, you can do it, but not for too long with out a literal blow up. And some blow ups break things that can NOT be fixed. So does this make sense? A car won’t run with a nice body, but a blown motor. A house will look good for as long as you keep it up, the minute you stop, it rots. AND if you walk around with a smile on while wanting to cry, YOU WILL one day, breakdown. Three different situations, ONE ending, for each. Everything needs to be taken care of, not just one part of something.
I am stuck on the fact that I NEED to move to feel better, no. That is not the problem, because the problem is PEOPLE, I have just blamed the house instead, but that is wrong of me. Sadly, it is not my houses fault people are evil, and have turned it into, what feels like TO ME, a war zone. Somewhere for people to just drive by for information, somewhere to leave things, UNWANTED things, at all time of the night, a place for arguments, lies & rumors. MY KIDS LIVE HERE, people seem to fucking forget that. They forget that their stupid ass actions affect them. Changes their view on THEIR home as well. Me being scared makes them scared, me being angry at home, well they hate it here too. It has become a cycle, of me trying to fix the shit show I call my life & me not knowing what way is up.
NO one has the right to take your peace away, or should even WANT too, but some people just don’t care, and that is NOT my fault. So from here on out, I don’t. Your assumptions never bothered me, labeling me as a cheater is hilarious because I AM SINGLE and have been since December…. Your friends, gifts, messages. Do not phase me. The easy shit, I have forgotten about, said fuck you. DON’T CARE. But the stalking, having your friends, message me and show up, the constant feeling of being watched. That shit is not okay, you have no right. No one does. And I am not the first, probably not but HOPEFULLY I am the last women you fuck with, and try to destroy. I am not sorry for saying no too you. I her new things about myself everyday because of the lies you have made up, within a MONTH of knowing me. You used my kids and my mental health. You are the biggest kind of monster, and you are just laughing it off right now trying to find the next girl, or someone else to hurt.
*decided to post my angry drafts.