Rae stood on the threshold, peering down into the eyes of her beloved dog, the dog she had adopted one year ago and promised to love forever. His eyes broke her heart. He knew she was hurting. He knew she was leaving - and that almost tempted her to stay - again. She wished she could make him understand why. “Why does this feel like you're leaving for good?” her fiancé asked her. Because it is, she didn't answer out loud. She offered a weak smile through her tears and kissed him one last time. “I'll see you in a week,” she lied, and closed the door behind her. With her head held high and fists clenched, she silently got in her car and backed out of the driveway. It wasn't until she was around the corner that she let the sobs escape. Once released, they came forth in violent waves – months and months of heartache, frustration, anger, despair, anxiety, depression, confusion, fear, grief. She cried so hard she gasped for breath and her tears blurred her vision, but she couldn't stop - not this time. She had to keep going. She had turned around so many times before. It had to be for real this time. Episodes from their 14 years together replayed in her mind – scenes she'd replayed over and over again, analyzing every harsh word exchanged, wondering for the millionth time if she had over-reacted. But even if she had, did his words and actions have to make her feel so horrible? She'd let it slide for 14 years. She'd made up excuses for him – he'd been neglected by his father and bullied by peers, so it made sense that he always had to be right, that he was constantly trying to prove himself. She could forgive that. She could forgive his bossiness, his need to be in control, his double standards. She could forgive that he sucked at romance and thoughtful gifts. She could forgive a lot of things, and she had, for a long, long time. But then they bought a house, and got a dog, and they both had careers they loved, and she'd asked him (again) if they could get married…and he said no. That's when she finally started to realize that there would always be excuses, because he was a controlling, emotionally abusive, narcissistic asshole. That's when Rae had come to the incredibly painful realization that she had to leave. She had to somehow let go of the last 14 years of her life and find a way to move forward on her own, no matter how terrifying it might be. An hour later she arrived at her cousin's, who greeted her with a kind hug and showed her to the spare bedroom. A twin air mattress and small table had been set up in between the closet and the rabbit cage. This was going to be her living space for the next several months. Deciding to embrace it, Rae set down her luggage and drove across the street to the Walmart to pick out some bedding. Standing there in the aisle, viewing all the options, she couldn't help but smile. Is this what freedom felt like? She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the store by herself, let alone picked out something she wanted, without his opinions and insults of her tastes, and his disgusting misuse of the word “compromise". There had never been any compromising with him – it had just been him convincing her why his idea was better. Nothing had ever been good enough for him if he wasn't the one to make the decision. Selecting a blue and purple sheet set and a small lamp, Rae made her way to the check out with a little skip in her step. Back at her cousin's apartment, she reflected on how amazing it felt to actually have a space to call her own - just hers. She realized that this feeling she was experiencing - this feeling of inner peace and safety, of self-expression - was what she had been missing for so long. Was it the absence of this feeling that had driven her to therapy and antidepressants? Was it really as simple as just having your own space? Rae didn't sleep that night. She was too anxious; excited for the new sense of freedom and positive experiences that lay before her, but also dreading the grief and despair she knew she would have to endure in order to heal and move on. A few days later, she drove two hours to the airport. She parked her car in the long-term parking lot and boarded a shuttle. She checked in for her flight, received her ticket, and found her way to her gate. All by herself. After boarding the plane and finding her window seat, she sent a selfie to a friend. They responded, “You look happy.” Gazing out the window, Rae realized that she was, in fact, happy. Deeply, authentically happy. More than that, she knew that this was the first of many amazing adventures she was going to take herself on. She was a strong, amazing, independent woman, and she was going to be okay.

4 YEARS OF HORROR LIVING A TOXIC LIFE It was still a mystery how something good turned so sour in just a few years. It felt almost like a switch was flipped off and his humanity was automatically turned off, turning him into a monster of the worst kind. How had I endured all of this for so long?? I felt drained and exhausted from constantly checking my actions to avoid any flaws or mistakes that would unleash the demon in him. Being mentally frustrated was not enough to explain how dehumanized I felt; I was practically scared of my own skin and was always wired to bolt from the slightest scare. How could a man drag a woman's pride in the mud, destroy her self esteem, brutalise her personality and still expected her to love him completely ?? What a toxic world I lived in. My name is Neni and I was trapped for four years of my student life. 2015 *** Stepping into my biology class for the first time felt good because it meant I was grown up enough to handle my life and take care of myself. I have been set free from the shackles of my parents and I had the world at my feet and the heavens just above my head. In my euphoric state I was ecstatic and crazy enough to think if I just reached out my hand I could touch the heavens above and make my wishes come true. More like my worst fears came to life. Meeting Simon was not as dramatic as first love's seem to emphasize. He was my lab partner during computer class and we sort of bonded over trivial discussion while I admired how beautifully created he was. He was very funny, goofy, knew how to charm a woman and make her swoon,very persuasive in a romantic way and was as considerate as any first year student could be. We made time to see each other outside of classes which proved difficult because of our different time tables, class schedules, hostel rules and everything beyond but we tried as much as we could to hang out during games in the evenings. He asked me to be his girlfriend on matriculation day and I gleefully accepted with all my immature heart fluttering and goosebumps lining up my arms which sent chills down my spine, making me feel I had found my missing rib. Four year down the line and it still remained the worst decision of my entire adult life. 2016 *** "Simon, have you seen my ATM card"?, I can't find it anywhere. I lamented bitterly because I needed to use the money my parents sent to me to pay off my school debts. "Yes babe" I have it with me and I need to use some of the money to clear up some stuff I got tangled in, he replied casually. What!! Exactly what are you talking about?? How can you even say such a thing. Please hand over my card I said with my hands outstretched. The vibration from the slap I received gave me nosebleeds and I literally fell to the floor. "Don't you ever question my decisions in this relationship ever again" he yelled and stomped out. I sat down on the cold tiled floor in my shorts and bloodstained white tank top feeling like a hammered drunk, dazed and too useless to move. Ladies and Gentlemen, that was the beginning of many more scary abuses to come. I was currently leaving with simon because we couldn't bear to be apart from each other even for a minute and he didn't want the restrictions the hostel presented so I partially moved in with him in my second year. I remember how loving and caring he was during our first year together, how he lavished me with tenderness and love. He holistically adored the ground on which I walked and worshipped at my feet. He loved my body like it was his, he adored every part of me, reverenced my core, bowed before my gates, asked permission before taking charge and took me on a ride of ecstasy and over the edge with a mastery that only he could perfect. We understood each other perfectly well, we didn't envy others and were content with everything we had until he wasn't. Simon became more cranky, lost interest in school, pilfered some money here and there, made excuses for his absences and spent all his time in the gambling den. The days he didn't win were the worst of them all. Full Story Here: https://www.dropbox.com/s/o04shq93hkaftha/4%20YEARS%20OF%20HORROR%20LIVING%20A%20TOXIC%20LIFE.docx?dl=0

I remember the first time I saw him. I was in his apartment. I was somewhat dating his roommate, and it was my first time at his place. I was sitting on the couch, when he came from behind me. “My girlfriend gets me flowers, and all I have a is a beer bottle to put it in” he joked. He had thick black kinky hair, sharp facial features, scrawny. I instantly fell for his loud objectionable laugh. It's a funky phenomenon, isn't it? Love at first sight. But I felt it. I felt it with him. He was wearing a Cosby like sweater, and baggy jeans. It was the year 1999, and we were dumb but didn't know it. I was 16. He was 24. I had met his friend through work. I was a caterer through a company in town. We mostly did low budget weddings. The food was simple - baked chicken, roast beef, sometimes fish. I was lucky enough to work with a few good friends. We would spend our breaks, flirting with the kitchen crew, and smoking cigarettes in the back of the box truck. We would hike up our skirts in hopes to gain some under the table tips from drunk old party goers. We would sometimes sneak a glass of champagne. The guy I was dating at the time, worked in the kitchen. We only dated very briefly and the only date I remember was a trip to the movies, and to Wendys for a frosty, which was my request - I was a cheap date. He truly was a very nice guy. A nice guy who was much older than me, a little rough around the edges, and had a child and an ex wife. Our relationship - or lack there of - quickly fizzled out. Which was fine by me, because remember- I was in madly love with his roommate. Luckily, even though things didn't work out with us, I was able to keep in touch with his roommate via mutual friends. And come to find out, he felt the same about me as I did him, and maybe even more. We spent hours chatting online, through chat messaging. He was all I ever thought about, day in and day out. He convinced me that no one on this planet could love me more than he did. I believed it to be true, because at that time - it absolutely was. But remember, I was only 16. He was 8 years older than me. As much as I wanted him, as much as I craved him - I was too practical. What would my parents say? What would my friends say? No one would would imagine that a 24 year old could genuinely love a 16 year old. So, years went by and I continued to keep myself away. I didn't let myself do what I wanted - I didn't let him do what he wanted. We dated other people. We maybe even loved other people. But we always came back to each other. Years later, I found myself in college. I had a rough night - had too much to drink. I was in the city - he was home, about 30 min away. I called him, I told him to come get me - that I needed him. He said, “listen, you're drunk. You don't know what you are saying. Go home, call me when you get there” I didn't let him hang up. I convinced him to come get me. And he did. He picked me up and drove me to his place. Everything was foggy. I had drank too much - but I knew exactly what I was doing, and I knew exactly where I was. We got back to his place, and I crawled into his bed. He got in next to me, laying down by my side. I could smell him. I wanted to feel him. I loved this man with all my heart - with all my everything. I wanted to show him how much I treasured him, and treasured all our years together. We had never been together like this. And then we made love. We didn't have sex, we didn't fuck, no - we made love. We melted into each other. I told him I loved him over and over, and he told me the same. I had never felt that way before, and I haven't since. Ours is a story that never turned into a story. A relationship never fully realized, always from a distance. But it was ours. He was my secret - a special treasure I wanted to keep to myself. He was all mine. He was sacred to me. Unfortunately by the time I was smart enough to realize this, he had moved on. And though I do not blame him now - I did then. Many years of pursuing a love that wont take the chance proved exhausting. There were times in those first few years, that I would think of him, and my chest would get so heavy, and the tears would swell up. I would find myself feeling like I had lost something that would never be found again. Those ugly words, “the one that got away” would ring in my head. But life moves on, and I have as well. I no longer hear a song and think of him. I am no longer swimming in regret, there are no more what ifs. But I will always hold a place in my heart, body and soul for him, and I hope he is doing the same for me.

I've been thinking about this falling in love thing lately. Why fall into it , why can't people stroll into love or glide into love . Why fall really. Then this humorous anecdote came into my head. Just Imagine this... .You are leaning on your own side of the fence on your nicely self constructed ego wall and suddenly a nice good looking man or woman passes along. You are intrigued so you stretch your neck to get a better look and bam! The wall collapsed and you fell into his or her arms on the other side, two of you fell head over heels in a tangle of arms and legs. At this point you don't know where she/ he starts and where you end . suddenly the slope ends and you two came to a stop. You pause to catch your breath. Then carefully you untangle your arms and legs , you give him/ her a little distance so you can get up and seperately each of you begin to dust yourself. Then You begin to notice little things about them that you hadn't before. Oh I thought that was a dimple, it is actually just a crease. Is that a mole on her nose, I think it is. Real love can only start if after dusting yourself up , you look at one another and ask how they fared. Are you hurt, oh you missed a spot , let me help you dust that off. That is when you forge a lasting relationship and real love starts. But if on the other hand after dusting yourself up and seeing that mole on her nose or you realise that what you thought was a dimple is just a crease, you turn and walk away without a backward glance, then you just had a fall pure and simple , love has nothing to do with it.

My lovely, ever patient wife went to town today. The mid morning sky was chromed in classic Montana blue as a summer breeze performed a Burlesque fan dance through the forest. She had some errands to run, and needed a well deserved break from her retired husband's manic rants. Not a quarter mile from our off-grid cabin, she witnessed a mountain lion take down a small Whitetail. The muscular cougar stretched across the gravel road, -seven feet whiskers to tail tip- caught the deer by the shoulder and snapped its neck. The attack was quick, efficient and both creatures disappeared before her SUV passed the spot where it happened. Nature is like that, succinct. My wife adjusted her sunglasses, checked all her mirrors and proceeded down the mountain. Four blind curves and two cutbacks later she watched as a towering Larch fell on top of a single-wide motorhome, crushing it into the ground. The huge conifer bounced two times before settling in a cloud of clay dust and pine needles. A lone man carrying a running chainsaw walked out of the brush and threw his hat on the ground. My wife shook her head, not bothering to stop and ask if he was alright. The smashed motorhome looked like a cross between an accordion and a bow tie. Today it was a motor home, tomorrow a pick-up truck. Those type of incidents happen all the time. The second most told story at Wednesday night bowling league only overshadowed by someone's latest hunting story. About a mile from the Teddy Roosevelt steel bridge, linking the East side of the Kootenai river to the West and connecting the forest to the town my pro-life sweetie swerved to avoid mashing a squirrel and blew a tire instead. After steering her SUV to the side of the road, and waiting for the gravel dust to settle, she got out and examined the tire. There's no cell phone reception in the mountains, even this close to town. The only reception spot is in the Southwest corner of the grocery store parking lot. My sure-to-be canonized spouse had to walk the last mile into town. Fortunately it was a beautiful day, sunny, warm but not hot and the forest smelled of wild flowers. She crossed the bridge, stopping momentarily to admire the emerald clarity of the river running beneath. The Kootenai “chameleons” from a milky jade to a deep jade in spring, transforming into a sparkling emerald in the summer and swirls into a deep serpentine green in the fall. The aesthetic never gets old. In town, positioning herself in the Southwest corner of the grocery store parking lot, my sweet love first called the tow service, TAZ towing, and Bobby the owner -a slight of build cartoon character- said he'd pick up the truck right after his lunch at Jacks diner, they were having his favorite, roast beef on toast, gravy and mashed potatoes. That announcement prompted tiny growls of hunger in my wife's stomach. Ignoring the pangs, she next phoned her friend and church buddy who lived south of town for a ride home. The woman said she'd be happy to pick my wife up at the store. With that confirmation, my resourceful honey proceeded inside for some grocery supplies. The check-out computer was down again so the cash registers had to be operated manually. A common occurrence for a technically challenged, small town. A half hour later she stood outside, a plastic bag in each hand and her saddlebag purse hung on her shoulder. Her ride back home was uneventful. Our bullmastiff Tassie raised her head off the couch and made a quiet chuff, and that's how I knew my wife had returned. I walked into the kitchen to refill my coffee cup as she entered the back door. “Hey hon, how was your foray to town?” She set the bags on the counter, dropped her purse on a chair by the door, then went to the glassware shelf and pulled down a cocktail glass. “What cha doin'” I asked, as it was not quiet our customary “booze O'clock” yet. “What does it look like I'm doing? You ask the stupidest questions sometimes.” “I dunno, we're out of vodka.” “Then give me the scotch.” I poured her two fingers and she made a casino Black Jack signal to hit her again. “I take it something happened?” “Nope.” she said taking her four fingers of scotch to her favorite recliner, “Everything was fine. Steins was having a 10lb meat sale.” I peaked out the backdoor window and noticed her truck missing and the taillights of her friends car headed down our long drive. I took a moment to study my wife's profile as she relaxed in her chair and sipping scotch. I admired the calm and content features of the woman who left the big city, learned to gut and dress livestock, qualify 98 out of a hundred target hits with a semi-automatic, garden and can everything from turnips to bear hump, take care of my parents, three dogs and a cat and still strong-arm me into marrying her after 20 years common law. I sipped my coffee and didn't ask anymore questions. I love my wife, she's a rock.

It's something should have expected considering what I've known and what I've learned over time. It's something that I should have seen coming. This relationship, especially at the age of 17-18 was not such a great idea. I thought that because I had a massive crush on this one person and that my feelings were so strong, according to me, that I could overcome anything and everything thrown at me. I was a fool for ever thinking that. I was not taking into account how much I had learned about this person, especially that not so good bits. That is on me though, overlooking the bad to try and see the good that may or may not come of what I got myself into. I "fell in love" with a girl I had known from a young age. Someone I thought was a very good friend of mine. Me, as the very shy person that I am, shocked even myself when I gained the courage to finally ask her out. It was a shock to her, but I got to hear what I've been wanting to hear. From then on it was all sunshine and roses or so I thought. On my part, I was on cloud nine! I had what I have been dreaming of for the few months. I got the girl I've been thinking about for quite an embarrassingly long time. It was great to think that I had this girl by my side and I wasn't so alone in the world after all. Over the next few months I began to realize that our relationship was beginning to be like the horror stories I've read about being in a relationship with a closeted girl. The sneaking around, the having to lie to be able to see each other, having to plan way in advance to even just hang out. It was hard, but I thought that because we were "in love" that it would work out. I honestly just was not seeing what was right in front of me. Considering she was the classic rebel, the girl always running away and getting into trouble, I thought it was all for show. The lying I thought was just a way fro her to see me; the cheating that I believed was "a cover" to maintain our relationship a secret; the days I'd be ignored and thought that she just wanted to get some scrutiny off of her back. I honestly was very naive and sometimes I think I still am; but this mockery of a relationship has taught me much, not only of myself but of how life may be sometimes. I have used this as a lesson to try and never let myself be played and used in this manner ever again. I have also chosen to try and help my friends from becoming like the small-minded person that I became in that time, the person with tunnel vision that could not see what was going on right under their noses. I hope to never plunge into a relationship like that again, but I have not given up hope on finding someone at the right time. I'm still young honestly and I have plenty of time, though the way the Earth is heading it may not seem like it (that's just my pessimism speaking). I hope this experience does not bore you, well if you got to this point I hope it hasn't. I just wanted to put all this out there honestly, and getting it off my chest in this way is kind of gratifying.

How many of you grew up without someone who was supposed to be there for you? How many of you lost friends as you grew older, or people you just really cared about? How did it make you feel? Age 3. My earliest memory was waking up in a bed that seemed familiar, but I could not figure out where I was. I left the mattress and explored the apartment that I strangely knew like the back of my hand. I came face-to-face with an elderly couple. I had called the woman my mother, and the man my grandpa. I did not know why. I assumed they were my parents. It wasn't until later that I gained a memory I can still recall: meeting my biological mother and brothers. I know I must have met them before, but my mind at that time had deemed them as strangers claiming to be my family, and all I can think was "why wasn't I raised with you guys?" Age 5. My mother took me and my little brother to a strange place past a fire station (I now recognize it was a police station). We stood there for a whole boring hour until a strange man wearing a black baseball cap and dark sunglasses walked in. He spoke to my mother before coming over to us. He introduced himself as our biological father. I accepted it without question. I expected him to be in my life again like my mother. However, after a few months of constant visits, we stopped going to the station to meet him and I didn't see him for a long time afterwards. By age 6 I began to wonder why he wasn't with my mother anymore, and by age 9 I had almost forgotten he existed until he finally returned to us again. This cycle continues to this very day. Age 10. I now only have a selective group of friends. We were a group of four with a couple of extras we liked hanging out with individually. Then one of us left, never to come back. I can barely remember her face now. Age 12. I was in one of the best relationships of my life. Granted, I had wronged someone, and I regret it to this very day. But we were happy together. That was until someone took him away from me. He went on to a better life (I can only hope so at least), and the night I heard the news I had lost all faith in God and the angels above. I had run back to the man who I had wronged, and in turn he did twice what I had done to him. My love life afterwards had been rocky and unknown. To this day I still refuse to worship such a god, but that boy gives me a hope that perhaps there is an afterlife. He sure as hell deserves the best of them. Age 14. I had made the biggest mistake of my life, and everyone I had once thought cared about me left. Friends turned on friends, relationships broke and mended, and I was shown a pain unlike any other that still haunts me to this very day. In the end, some of them came back and we promised a new life for ourselves. However, the betrayal has me weary and I still cannot trust him with everything I know and love. Not with my whole heart anyway. Age 15. These experiences still mess with my head. As I lay in bed late at night, I am kept awake until the early hours of dawn with these memories playing in my head. The pain becomes hurt, which in turn becomes rage, and eventually settles to sorrow if not quenched with revenge, and it all returns to a stinging numbness that makes me feel both everything and nothing at the same time. I fear closeness to those I care for most in the case of them betraying and leaving me behind just like all the others. As my 16th birthday approaches, I cannot help but wonder how different my life may have been if the choices we all made weren't the ones we had chosen. Would it be better? Would it be worse? Would I still think of the "what ifs" in the end? What is it like? What am I like? Will I ever know, or be kept in this darkness until my dying days? Would I ever be the patient and trusting person I hope to be one day, the person I am working to become, that everyone loves? Would I continue to be a shame to my family and an embarrassment to them, or would I give them nothing but pride? So much could have been different, but would I want it that way?

Do you remember your first love? Were you filled with butterflies in your stomach? Did you blush around them, or stammer when trying to speak to them? Did you dream of a life with them, getting married and having children together? Many of us often remember our first lovers or crushes. Some may regret being with them, some miss that experience with them, and some never got to be with them. Now that last part might not seem important. However, consider this: How many times has it happened? Most of you might say, "Well, only a few times. I didn't have that many crushes growing up." That's perfectly normal. Some people fall easier than others.Yet, can you imagine what it must be like if you had so many crushes that you can barely remember them all? About 110. I have had 110 crushes, some of them on the same person multiple times. That's just a quick estimate. It might have been more, maybe slightly less, but can you guess how many of them liked me back? Only about 15--despite dating 16 people, one had fallen for me but I only wished to give them a chance because of our beloved friendship--had fallen for me as well. Do you know how many were loyal to me until the very end, and vice versa? Only three. Tony: boy #1. Cause of breakup? Died tragically in a hospital at 3 in the morning during late August two weeks after we started dating. He was shot attempting to save a man being robbed, received surgery, and his body rejected the transplant causing him to die. I was only around 11 or 12 at the time. Bryan: boy #2. Cause of breakup? We slowly drifted apart after nearly a year of being together. I don't know what went wrong, but we just stopped talking. We mutually agreed it was for the best if we saw other people. Finally, boy #3: Dani. My current partner. We had dated once before, back in my freshman year and his sophomore year. It was less than ideal and I left after almost a month. We continued to be friends after that. Then, late into my sophomore year after a traumatic event, something had sparked again. I'm not sure how or why, nor do I know now, but in early spring I started to develop feelings for him again. I had held it off for a good few months believing it was just a fluke. I told myself, "There's no way. He's just being nice, that's all. It'll go away eventually like it always does." Yet, the feelings never left. They grew and grew until I started to see signs that I had been trapped with possibly unrequited love for him. I remember how rumors began to spread, and he had admitted to them, that he had his eyes on a particular girl in our friend group. Shamefully I admit that I was outraged by this. It had happened so many times before, and I was a fool to continue to love those people for prolonged periods of time. Like my childhood friend, and a girl we both knew from another school on the campus grounds. I didn't want to be hurt again. So I continued to push those feelings away. They didn't stop. They pushed back, and I was forced to feel this way for so long. Then I had made a decision: sink or swim. He either loved me back or he didn't. I had yet taken another unsure dive into an unfamiliar lake in which I had drowned in many times before. I wrote him a small note at first, telling him my feelings in French. He returned to me and asked me why. I could not give a proper response. We left it off at that. A day or so later I gave him a longer note explaining in full detail what I meant by those small words. He took it, read it, and said not a word to me afterwards. I had believed myself to be rejected, and like many times before I was heartbroken. "What else did you expect?" I told myself that evening. "Of course he doesn't want you back, idiot! Why even bother?" I had prepared myself to be content with the loneliness I felt that day. That was why I was taken by surprise when he acted unusual the very next day. It's hard for me to recall everything that day as I write this, but I do remember one thing: that kiss we shared spoke more to me than words can ever manage. Now we are content and happy with one another, lasting a total of about 6 months, but that fear I felt back then still lingers in my mind. The fear of now losing him like the others. The fear that something will come between us, something neither of us can control or stop, and I'll be alone again. My mind works strangely in these situations. While I am outwardly happy with my life now on the exterior, my mind races with endless possibilities all ending with me being left forgotten and abandoned. I suppose that is my reason for not wanting to fall. All the failures pile up until it's too much for me to bear any longer, and they begin to haunt me day in and day out. My only hope is that this time is different, and I can finally share my love with someone properly again.