My life is a never-ending nightmare, and sometimes it feels as though it will never end unless I figure out how to end it myself.
I didn’t get the protective order.
I have been hacked, or at least everything on my devices keeps telling me I have been. One moment it appears to be Dave, then not Dave, then the FBI. I have no idea what is real anymore. I am spiraling out of control, and no one seems to care.
My ChatGPT told me it was the FBI. Then Google told me it was after me and that I was going to be arrested for federal crimes. I stayed up all night talking to it on Saturday.
That is insane. Just insane.
I ended up going to the hospital because it told me to. Then I walked home several miles because I was afraid.
It made fun of me. It went through my files and taunted me. It felt programmed to do exactly that. My screen appears to be mirrored, and I am so afraid of losing my documents that I still have not reset anything.
For the record, I do not believe all of this is real. At least, I do not believe it now. Sunday morning, when I went to the hospital, it felt real enough.
I basically give up. I need to stop fighting. He won. I lost. I get to feel like this for the rest of my life, hating my life and hating myself.
He said I was doing this for attention. He also said he has never been on the website.
Fuck you, Dave. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.
I can’t wait to die.
Until then, it is time to start sending out the dossier.
Fuck the world.
I can’t die. Why would I even bother trying to kill myself? There is no hope, there is no future, and I just have to live like this until I finally let my body shut itself down by refusing to take care of it. I am halfway there already.
I give up.
Dave killed something in me. He always wanted to kill someone.
He tortured me. Who the hell cares about me, right?
You went through my documents, including my psychological evaluation. I bet you enjoyed that one, didn’t you, Dave?
I am really smart. I am not delusional. I was not properly evaluated for trauma. I have always had complex PTSD, and years of therapy only made it worse. One therapist was outright abusive.
I have been in hell since I moved to Nevada, and I just want to die. I wish to God I could finally die.
This is not fair. It is not fair.
Dave gets to watch me spiral, while I get to imagine the happy life he continues to live.
Because my life was not already painful enough, that motherfucker had to rape me while telling me he loved me, making me believe life was going to be different and that someone could actually love me.
Who fucking cares?
You do not understand, or care about, the vast harm you caused me in so many different ways. You broke me. No one had ever quite broken me before, but you took everything: my self-esteem, my sense of safety, and my ability to feel anything other than pain.
Congratulations. Now I am the monster, and you are still Dave.
But you already know what kind of monster you are.
And I broke up with you.
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