No screaming, we're British...
You like to tell me to shut the fuck up.
Which is interesting since most the time you ask me what’s in my head and I say ‘pooook!’. But any time I produce a sentence longer than that you’re usually unhappy with it. You say I’m fucking insane and out of my mind. And dumb - so, very fucking dumb.
I would like to point out that these are all the things your mother has said to you so many times over. And now you repeat them on to me.
Her saying those things never helped you be a better person. But you do like to reiterate them. Pass the hurt on, I guess? Despite the fact that apparently you think I'm smarter than you. But you don't really. Because if you thought I was intelligent you would debate calmIy. But you don't. You shout at me that I'm a fucking idiot and then try to claim that was just 'passion'.
It was not. It was you losing your temper, shouting at me and being an arse.
And that happens roughly twice a month. While we're at it, I can't be both smarter than you and also a dumb fucking idiot. Because following that to it's logical conclusion really doesn't work out well.
When you tell me I’m insane because you’ve lost the thread of the argument and are a bit drunk, but you really go to town, character-assassination-wise? All I hear is Lady Bluejay squawking because she’s lost her footing and doesn’t ever want to admit it. It’s the same damn thing. I'm not your mother, your sisters, your ex girlfriends, or your history. I'm just me. Please don't treat me like all of your past. And if in fact I am indicative of all of your past it's very bad I'm with you and you have bloody awful character judgement - seriously.
I have never run away from anywhere in my life until (four times now) you told me to sod off and get the fuck out of your house. And each time you were amazed I left, and you sent shouty messages demanding to know where the hell I was. (Because that's not maladaptive at all and I have so many friends and family members who I can chill and stay with for a bit. When told to sod off, my options are limitless in how many friends I can chill with and... oh, wait no.) I have you and chittens. You tell me to fuck off, I'll go sit in a tree for half a day because I have zero other choices.
Your mother likes excessive drama. Still, you’ll be exasperated by her behavior but behave exactly like her at the drop of a hat or a drop too much bourbon.
I said I couldn’t scream cos I had decided not to aged six. Instead of any sensible thoughts any adult may have about a child’s decision and the fact I hadn’t been in a terrible situation that warranted screaming since, you decided to go with ‘don’t gaslight me, bitch, I could hurt you and you’d scream.’ Which was quite a lot. And didn’t make me feel very happy because it seemed like you’d hurt me to make a point but it was also my fault really so I should totally acknowledge that and be sorry for apparently gaslighting you.
You say your mother was your only good role model. And I say you have far too much of your mother in you. She provided many good things throughout your life. But, also, she married some highly questionable people, and you did had to emancipate yourself. Sooo, yeah... All the mean and irrational things you do? ie, ‘FUCK YOU - I HATE YOU! - I DEMAND A DIVORCE!!!’ Is a very unhappy adult thing to throw out there on a monthly basis - which you do. Every month it’s ‘fuck you - divorce!’ Which is apparently perfectly normal where you come from.
Thing is, no one in my family did the doom shouting and the anger. Ever at all. No one ever told someone they were going to be kicked out and be homeless. No one yelled ‘DIVORCE!’ every month. No one held one another to randsome like it was fine - because it isn't - it's not okay at all. I don't want gifts if you're going to try to use them as leverage later. (And whilst I have not been homeless, I have been in a foreign country with no money, no job, no security, no family, no friends, no place to sleep and you reclaiming half my possessions because you bought them so they're not mine at all and telling me to get the fuck out of your house at 1am. That's happened at least twice. In yesterday's variation, you shouted at me that I hadn't 'SUFFERED ENOUGH' and should be punched to learm how it felt. You then said I didn't know what it meant to be homeless, so threatened to make me understand by taking away anything you'd ever bought me and then kicking me out. As a lesson. Also you were going to delete every story or drawing or picture of mine from Mercy. Because Mercy isn't mine. You bought her: she belongs to you. (I've understood that from the start. She can never be mine if someone else can hold her to ransom.)
if you ever threaten to delete my art and stories again then you are no longer a Keecher and sure as hell are not a Sheriff of Meekle. Because no Keecher would be so Blah as to do such a thing nor even threaten to destroy years of work and art out of spite.
So yeah, you can bellow at me that I know nothing because I have never suffered and really go for it and shout in my face. Or you can tell me I’ve never been punched and so don’t understand anything ever at all with a sort of off-hand inference like you want to teach me life lessons via physical pain. Because I cannot possibly have any form of understanding or empathy - and I love it when it sounds like I’m too princessy and really need to be smacked in the face to teach me a life lesson - especially by my significant other! That just makes me feel so happy!
You do not get to decide that as far as you know I didn't get curb-stomped so didn't suffer enough. Fuck you and fuck your judgement. You have no idea what happened to me. (Also how did wisdom via pain suddenly become a universal indicator?) If pain incaulcates wisdom, I may never have gone to school but I proficiantly self-taght, as my scars can attest to.
I have not had the bad things happen to me that happened to you. That doesn't mean bad things didn't happen. How about I school you on everyday casual sexual misconduct? It happens in the street, in shops, in trains and buses. It happens all over and no one cares. Just because someone didn’t try to hit you in the face doesn’t mean horrible things didn’t happen. Also, I don’t have to explain shit to you if I don’t want to.
But by all means do tell me to shut the fuck up again because I am an idiot and out of my mind any time I say something you don’t like. For someone who prides themselves on decent debate, 'fuck off' 'fuck you' 'shut up' and 'you're insane' are alarmingly frequent go-to rejoiners of yours. And if I was a flat-earther tin-hat wearing nazi with half a brain cell it would be totally warrented. But I'm not.
You have a set quota of 'shut the fuck up' until I do: not temparerally, but perminantly. I can be silent for a horribly long long time.
But circling back to why I typed all this in the first place, you said: "You're gaslighting me - you said you couldn't scream - anyone can scream if they're tortured hard enough..."
Please revisit that sentence. Me saying I hadn't screamed since I was six and couldn't scream on command, and you decided to go to town on that and were saying things like 'you'd scream if I pulled your nails out - everyone screams...' And then told me I was gaslighting you for not admitting to screaming when you spent five minutes telling me how you'd torture me to make me scream? Super classy. Really nice.
Also 'gaslighting' is not explaining something off the cuff with insufficient detail. For example. I apologise. I phrased it wrong. So, I have not screamed since I was 6 years old. But yes, I'm certain if you flayed me or pulled out my nails I'd fucking scream. I don't really know why you fancied pointing this out to me intensely for five minutes.
"Don't fucking gaslight me - if I pulled your skin off you'd scream."
Er... yeah. You are totally correct. Thank you for putting that nasty image in my head: one of you skinning me and two that it's my fault for saying I don't scream. Which is somehow gaslighting you. Which isn't what gaslighting means in the least but okay. But no - I claimed to be unable to scream! Horror of horrors! I must be proved wrong with weirdly graphic examples of hideous harm to myself via nasty stuff you say. Why? To prove a point because I wasn't accurate enough in my statement and so I have to be taught differently because apparently I'm 'gaslighting' my partner by saying 'I can't scream' in a throw away comment. And to fix things, I have to be imaginely graphicly tortured.
Right. So truly glad that's sorted.
Kal?
You have no idea of some of the things you say late at night sometimes. Insulting me is the barest minimum. You hate me, want to divorce me, I'm a terrible shit, I should go back to the UK, you'll leave - because, you don't even know why (something something something? and then you hate the cats) I tell you please don't be mean to the cats and then you're very angry, tell me it's your house, throw things at the cats, I stop you, and you tell me it's your fucking house (again) and your rules and to sod off. Then you shout and throw pillows at cats again. I say please stop, you demand a divorce and go to bed.
All these times, in the morning you have forgoten 95% of all of that insanity and I'm just left a bit sad and don't like you so much. Because apparently you hate me late at night and like to casually threaten everything I am and have and the cats too? But everytime, the next morning I should just... forget it. I mean it's fine, right?
It's not like you threatened me with homlessness, physical violence and the deletion of everything I'd ever tried to create in the last 20 years.
Oh no wait...
I don't want flowers or treats or hairdye or dresses or shinies or anything. Just don't don't be an arse to me or the cats - especially the cats.
You walloped Flint repeatedly with a pillow and yelled. I was deeply displeased with your behaviour, because Unkind People bellow and hit chittens and I thought I married a Keecher. (Your only saving grace at this point is the fact it was a cushion and not anything else.) But seriously - are you 5years old? What kind of sod hits a cat for being a cat? Tell them off or use a spray bottle, don't slam them repeatedly with a pillow - WTF is wrong with you? "DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT?" you demanded. My face and posture showed I did actually. And that was when you told me to get out of your house and that you'd wipe all my art and stories off of Mercy because, "MY HOUSE MY RULES - Y'KNOW WHAT, FUCK YOU."
All I can say is you sound like a cross between your mother when she is being unreasonable, and how I imagine you were at 15. And neither behaviour nor attitude is good.
Which is interesting since most the time you ask me what’s in my head and I say ‘pooook!’. But any time I produce a sentence longer than that you’re usually unhappy with it. You say I’m fucking insane and out of my mind. And dumb - so, very fucking dumb.
I would like to point out that these are all the things your mother has said to you so many times over. And now you repeat them on to me.
Her saying those things never helped you be a better person. But you do like to reiterate them. Pass the hurt on, I guess? Despite the fact that apparently you think I'm smarter than you. But you don't really. Because if you thought I was intelligent you would debate calmIy. But you don't. You shout at me that I'm a fucking idiot and then try to claim that was just 'passion'.
It was not. It was you losing your temper, shouting at me and being an arse.
And that happens roughly twice a month. While we're at it, I can't be both smarter than you and also a dumb fucking idiot. Because following that to it's logical conclusion really doesn't work out well.
When you tell me I’m insane because you’ve lost the thread of the argument and are a bit drunk, but you really go to town, character-assassination-wise? All I hear is Lady Bluejay squawking because she’s lost her footing and doesn’t ever want to admit it. It’s the same damn thing. I'm not your mother, your sisters, your ex girlfriends, or your history. I'm just me. Please don't treat me like all of your past. And if in fact I am indicative of all of your past it's very bad I'm with you and you have bloody awful character judgement - seriously.
I have never run away from anywhere in my life until (four times now) you told me to sod off and get the fuck out of your house. And each time you were amazed I left, and you sent shouty messages demanding to know where the hell I was. (Because that's not maladaptive at all and I have so many friends and family members who I can chill and stay with for a bit. When told to sod off, my options are limitless in how many friends I can chill with and... oh, wait no.) I have you and chittens. You tell me to fuck off, I'll go sit in a tree for half a day because I have zero other choices.
Your mother likes excessive drama. Still, you’ll be exasperated by her behavior but behave exactly like her at the drop of a hat or a drop too much bourbon.
I said I couldn’t scream cos I had decided not to aged six. Instead of any sensible thoughts any adult may have about a child’s decision and the fact I hadn’t been in a terrible situation that warranted screaming since, you decided to go with ‘don’t gaslight me, bitch, I could hurt you and you’d scream.’ Which was quite a lot. And didn’t make me feel very happy because it seemed like you’d hurt me to make a point but it was also my fault really so I should totally acknowledge that and be sorry for apparently gaslighting you.
You say your mother was your only good role model. And I say you have far too much of your mother in you. She provided many good things throughout your life. But, also, she married some highly questionable people, and you did had to emancipate yourself. Sooo, yeah... All the mean and irrational things you do? ie, ‘FUCK YOU - I HATE YOU! - I DEMAND A DIVORCE!!!’ Is a very unhappy adult thing to throw out there on a monthly basis - which you do. Every month it’s ‘fuck you - divorce!’ Which is apparently perfectly normal where you come from.
Thing is, no one in my family did the doom shouting and the anger. Ever at all. No one ever told someone they were going to be kicked out and be homeless. No one yelled ‘DIVORCE!’ every month. No one held one another to randsome like it was fine - because it isn't - it's not okay at all. I don't want gifts if you're going to try to use them as leverage later. (And whilst I have not been homeless, I have been in a foreign country with no money, no job, no security, no family, no friends, no place to sleep and you reclaiming half my possessions because you bought them so they're not mine at all and telling me to get the fuck out of your house at 1am. That's happened at least twice. In yesterday's variation, you shouted at me that I hadn't 'SUFFERED ENOUGH' and should be punched to learm how it felt. You then said I didn't know what it meant to be homeless, so threatened to make me understand by taking away anything you'd ever bought me and then kicking me out. As a lesson. Also you were going to delete every story or drawing or picture of mine from Mercy. Because Mercy isn't mine. You bought her: she belongs to you. (I've understood that from the start. She can never be mine if someone else can hold her to ransom.)
if you ever threaten to delete my art and stories again then you are no longer a Keecher and sure as hell are not a Sheriff of Meekle. Because no Keecher would be so Blah as to do such a thing nor even threaten to destroy years of work and art out of spite.
So yeah, you can bellow at me that I know nothing because I have never suffered and really go for it and shout in my face. Or you can tell me I’ve never been punched and so don’t understand anything ever at all with a sort of off-hand inference like you want to teach me life lessons via physical pain. Because I cannot possibly have any form of understanding or empathy - and I love it when it sounds like I’m too princessy and really need to be smacked in the face to teach me a life lesson - especially by my significant other! That just makes me feel so happy!
You do not get to decide that as far as you know I didn't get curb-stomped so didn't suffer enough. Fuck you and fuck your judgement. You have no idea what happened to me. (Also how did wisdom via pain suddenly become a universal indicator?) If pain incaulcates wisdom, I may never have gone to school but I proficiantly self-taght, as my scars can attest to.
I have not had the bad things happen to me that happened to you. That doesn't mean bad things didn't happen. How about I school you on everyday casual sexual misconduct? It happens in the street, in shops, in trains and buses. It happens all over and no one cares. Just because someone didn’t try to hit you in the face doesn’t mean horrible things didn’t happen. Also, I don’t have to explain shit to you if I don’t want to.
But by all means do tell me to shut the fuck up again because I am an idiot and out of my mind any time I say something you don’t like. For someone who prides themselves on decent debate, 'fuck off' 'fuck you' 'shut up' and 'you're insane' are alarmingly frequent go-to rejoiners of yours. And if I was a flat-earther tin-hat wearing nazi with half a brain cell it would be totally warrented. But I'm not.
You have a set quota of 'shut the fuck up' until I do: not temparerally, but perminantly. I can be silent for a horribly long long time.
But circling back to why I typed all this in the first place, you said: "You're gaslighting me - you said you couldn't scream - anyone can scream if they're tortured hard enough..."
Please revisit that sentence. Me saying I hadn't screamed since I was six and couldn't scream on command, and you decided to go to town on that and were saying things like 'you'd scream if I pulled your nails out - everyone screams...' And then told me I was gaslighting you for not admitting to screaming when you spent five minutes telling me how you'd torture me to make me scream? Super classy. Really nice.
Also 'gaslighting' is not explaining something off the cuff with insufficient detail. For example. I apologise. I phrased it wrong. So, I have not screamed since I was 6 years old. But yes, I'm certain if you flayed me or pulled out my nails I'd fucking scream. I don't really know why you fancied pointing this out to me intensely for five minutes.
"Don't fucking gaslight me - if I pulled your skin off you'd scream."
Er... yeah. You are totally correct. Thank you for putting that nasty image in my head: one of you skinning me and two that it's my fault for saying I don't scream. Which is somehow gaslighting you. Which isn't what gaslighting means in the least but okay. But no - I claimed to be unable to scream! Horror of horrors! I must be proved wrong with weirdly graphic examples of hideous harm to myself via nasty stuff you say. Why? To prove a point because I wasn't accurate enough in my statement and so I have to be taught differently because apparently I'm 'gaslighting' my partner by saying 'I can't scream' in a throw away comment. And to fix things, I have to be imaginely graphicly tortured.
Right. So truly glad that's sorted.
Kal?
You have no idea of some of the things you say late at night sometimes. Insulting me is the barest minimum. You hate me, want to divorce me, I'm a terrible shit, I should go back to the UK, you'll leave - because, you don't even know why (something something something? and then you hate the cats) I tell you please don't be mean to the cats and then you're very angry, tell me it's your house, throw things at the cats, I stop you, and you tell me it's your fucking house (again) and your rules and to sod off. Then you shout and throw pillows at cats again. I say please stop, you demand a divorce and go to bed.
All these times, in the morning you have forgoten 95% of all of that insanity and I'm just left a bit sad and don't like you so much. Because apparently you hate me late at night and like to casually threaten everything I am and have and the cats too? But everytime, the next morning I should just... forget it. I mean it's fine, right?
It's not like you threatened me with homlessness, physical violence and the deletion of everything I'd ever tried to create in the last 20 years.
Oh no wait...
I don't want flowers or treats or hairdye or dresses or shinies or anything. Just don't don't be an arse to me or the cats - especially the cats.
You walloped Flint repeatedly with a pillow and yelled. I was deeply displeased with your behaviour, because Unkind People bellow and hit chittens and I thought I married a Keecher. (Your only saving grace at this point is the fact it was a cushion and not anything else.) But seriously - are you 5years old? What kind of sod hits a cat for being a cat? Tell them off or use a spray bottle, don't slam them repeatedly with a pillow - WTF is wrong with you? "DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT?" you demanded. My face and posture showed I did actually. And that was when you told me to get out of your house and that you'd wipe all my art and stories off of Mercy because, "MY HOUSE MY RULES - Y'KNOW WHAT, FUCK YOU."
All I can say is you sound like a cross between your mother when she is being unreasonable, and how I imagine you were at 15. And neither behaviour nor attitude is good.