We have nothing in common anymore. We're just too different on every level that counts. We've tried to make it work - or rather, I have - but it's no good. You never respond, most of the time you don't even acknowledge me or what I say.
I'm not happy. You're not happy. It's pointless.
I'd leave you if I could, but you won't let me and I don't see that changing. I know you'd harass me, stalk me, spy on me, and treat me like a criminal. Isn't it funny that you'd take notice then. You're nothing but a sociopathic bully, set in your ways, blind to the reality of your actions.
I couldn't leave anyway, there's no where to go - you've seen to that. But I can't keep doing this.
I've begged, pleaded, screamed, and shouted. Nothing works.
As I sit here a perfectly normal, law-abiding, person - wellies on the porch, tea in hand, dog at my feet, plates in the dishwasher - I've come to the only conclusion I can.
People will talk. Most probably won't understand. I'll get tarred with the brush of ignorance and called all sorts of names. As they try to compute the double life I'd led and the lies I'd told they'll only confuse their moral compass further. I'll probably get hurt badly. But it'll all be worth it.
Maybe it's not your fault that you're the way you are but I have no choice now, I have to put me first, I'm sorry.
I going to have to kill you.
________
Disclaimer for security services/LEA/whatnot: this is fiction designed to evoke thought, specifically the dynamics of how extremism comes to be. I am not the character in the above piece, but I am capable of sympathising with him - which is kind of the point. It is categorically not meant with menacing intent or as a threat so you can put your Communications/Terrorism legislation down. Isn't it fucking sad that I have to write that?
We have nothing in common anymore. We're just too different on every level that counts. We've tried to make it work - or rather, I have - but it's no good. You never respond, most of the time you don't even acknowledge me or what I say.
I'm not happy. You're not happy. It's pointless.
I'd leave you if I could, but you won't let me and I don't see that changing. I know you'd harass me, stalk me, spy on me, and treat me like a criminal. Isn't it funny that you'd take notice then. You're nothing but a sociopathic bully, set in your ways, blind to the reality of your actions.
I couldn't leave anyway, there's no where to go - you've seen to that. But I can't keep doing this.
I've begged, pleaded, screamed, and shouted. Nothing works.
As I sit here a perfectly normal, law-abiding, person - wellies on the porch, tea in hand, dog at my feet, plates in the dishwasher - I've come to the only conclusion I can.
People will talk. Most probably won't understand. I'll get tarred with the brush of ignorance and called all sorts of names. As they try to compute the double life I'd led and the lies I'd told they'll only confuse their moral compass further. I'll probably get hurt badly. But it'll all be worth it.
Maybe it's not your fault that you're the way you are but I have no choice now, I have to put me first, I'm sorry.
I going to have to kill you.
________
Disclaimer for security services/LEA/whatnot: this is fiction designed to evoke thought, specifically the dynamics of how extremism comes to be. I am not the character in the above piece, but I am capable of sympathising with him - which is kind of the point. It is categorically not meant with menacing intent or as a threat so you can put your Communications/Terrorism legislation down. Isn't it fucking sad that I have to write that?