I want to feel tender toward the sad life you’ve lived and continue to live as a sociopath. I’m not there yet. But you targeted me for my empathy so I know that day will come. In the meantime, I want you to know that you are a predator. The grooming process I went through with you is no different than that of a pedophile. You taught me to isolate myself from family and friends, to keep this dirty little secret between me and you. But I won’t keep it any longer.
You abused me and took pleasure in it. You liked making me feel on edge, wondering if you would be Nice James or Mean James. You once told me you were both people and that it was unconscionable for me not to love both. And for the longest time I thought I had to choose a life of walking on eggshells, not ever knowing for certain which version of James you would be that day, that hour, that minute, that second. Your ability to shift from one to the other was effortless after all. But here’s the rub you were always so fond of looking for in finding flaw with my character. I don’t have to choose between Nice James and Mean James. Because guess what? I choose neither.
To quote one of your favorite authors, “You cannot find peace by avoiding life.” For me, this means I have to face the trauma you deliberately inflicted on me with effort and grace. For you? It means your chaotic cycle will not abate. You will continue to leave a path of destruction in your wake. I’m just so glad that I was able to jump off that ship of yours as you took me through unsafe waters. I much prefer this solid ground (free of eggshells) I’ve found.