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Image for the poem You can’t love abusive men that treat you like shit because they’re incompetent at steering a ship !

You can’t love abusive men that treat you like shit because they’re incompetent at steering a ship !

The city never sleeps; particularly as I ponder the way my mind races when I should be tucked away in bed instead of indulging in chocolate & apple crumble ice cream with a flat white at 3am on a Sunday morning.    
     
I feel awkward staying home alone, particularly at night, and my thoughts gravitate to distant dry & desolate places with ochre hues as I sit here savouring my ice cream & coffee whilst listening to music, and watching people come and go; because I’m a bit of a weirdo like that.      
     
Sighs.      
     
I don’t know why I continue to despise the father of my children, however, the dialogues he shares with my daughter leaves me feeling ill.    
   
I mean, who conveys such BS to a child; asking her how she’d feel if he & I worked things out when there’s absolutely fuck all to work out.    
     
There was never any shared assets, and he refused to invest in the relationship wholeheartedly; even refusing to sign the children’s birth certificates which hurt beyond belief; like, how could you disown your children like that ?!    
     
Plus, he hasn’t been required to pay any child support, whatsoever; which is fine because I earn twice the amount he earns but still; the audacity of him.    
   
Clearly, I’m not OK with what he’s saying to my daughter because that ship sailed 12 - 13 years ago, and there’s no way I’m reconciling with that kind of dysfunction.      
     
I abhor alcoholism and if you can’t harness your communication skills to convey your frustrations; and choose to use your fists, or blatant headfuckery, then I’m not receptive to that kind of childishness.      
     
Y’know, I can’t quiet put my finger on the exact moment I knew I made the biggest mistake of my life; whether it was when he slammed my head into the kitchen cupboard the day before his uncle was buried, or the night he came home at 2am intoxicated, whilst I was in my final trimester of pregnancy with my first born, and he gifted me a swollen lip; a mouth full of blood and a pair of shiny black eyes for refusing to get up out of bed and cook him something to eat, or when he broke my ring finger after trying to grab me by the wrist.      
     
I just wish he’d stop spinning BS to my youngest child as she repeats everything to me without any knowledge of the internal breakdown that that triggers in me !      
     
In the end, that bond with him left me with an additional layer of PTSD, and her conversations with her father trigger my anxiety.    
     
The only solace I can find right here and right now is in this delicious ice cream and a cup of coffee; save the wondering to distant places in which I once wandered in my youth as I ruminate how to navigate the complexity of this situation diplomatically to ensure peace can be attained as opposed to a potential riot unfolding between one, and the other.    
     
One, who had my heart long before the other trampled all over it, and I can’t blame one for not saving me after falling into the arms of another, and birthing children to the latter.      
     
Gosh. I can’t live with another sadistic narcissistic prick ever again, and the only submissive side to me is when I need to release my stress; sexually, on my own terms.      
     
And, of course, those things are always negotiable; in terms of boundaries.      
     
Outside of that, I can micromanage my own life, and don’t need to be told how to dress, and comply with the minutiae that emerges in the mind of a sadistic narcissist ever again.      
     
However, I think I’ll keep myself to myself and recover from the treatment my body has endured over the past 3 months.      
     
Sighs.
Written by shadow_starzzz
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