carbon-lacing

Once I had dreams about sitting in a small house by the sea with old cast iron pots and pans and unmatched mugs from thrift shops neatly scrubbed and lined up on a shelf in a freshly painted pantry. The place was not much, but the view was everything. We woke up to the screaming of sea birds and the light breathing of the waves every day. Some mornings the sky and the ocean had no beginning or end when you sat on the sand running your fingers in the coarse grains.

We had our own piece of heaven right there. We did not see each other much during the day. We had some work still, our hobbies and habits. We liked our time apart. It reminded me of when the children were small and we would go off on separate trips to gather stones. We would later empty our pockets and admire our haul and talk about where we found each glorious rock. We would pick up each one and clamour on its beauty.

I never had dreams about undying love or knights on horses saving the princess or boxes with priceless jewels.

I dreamt of the taste of home and stability. Wrinkled faces and balding heads, laughter oh we had monstrous fun.

One night I felt him strangling me with an electrical cord. It was bright orange and he wore a white safety helmet with goggles.

I tried to shake him off of me but he was sitting on me and was so much stronger.

I thought I would die and I thought of that house by the sea and I closed my eyes so when I would have my last breath, I would return there. Safe, happy and drinking tea in a cup that says, “Are you kitten me right now?”

I woke up to a message saying that he had a child with someone else while he was with me. That he was a known racist that manipulated women of colour for his benefit. That he used me because he thought I was an easy target because I was not white and I had autism.

He was in love with someone else but was with me because she did not want him. I was second fiddle. He strung me along just so he did not have to be alone.

He lied to me about every facet of his life.

His web was full of lazy, messy holes that an army of contractions could march through. He thought he was smarter than me, so I would never notice.

Being an LG synesthete, I notice things others may not.

The way people say things have a taste, no not exactly… a sensation that over time I can recognise as them. When something in them changes, their sensation changes slightly too.

Like when you tweak a recipe just a bit.

He unravelled and because I did not react right away, he thought he triumphed.

I gathered his words in a basket and scattered them on the floor at my feet. I sorted them out by size and smell and navigated which belonged to me (my present) did not belong to me (his past).

I realised this was not personal. He was covering up something he did not want me to know.

Still, the pain was growing in intensity. His cruelty was unabating. I was watching him fall into the abyss and he was dragging me with him. I did not know how to function without waiting for him to tell me what was up, how to behave (by explaining what he did not like about me) and the helplessness was all-consuming.

I did not even like him.

I got stuck in a situation with him that I knew hurt him. I walked away early on because he was not what I wanted. He displayed very irrational and scary traits that worried me. I did not want to be another person that abandoned him.

So I stayed. I forced myself to see the good in him.

Even if I had to make it up.

I liked him for about a month.

It took two years for me to break free of him. And even now, his presence is lingering still.

Therapy has explained to me that this is not an abnormal autistic trait. It does not make me feel any better, though.

I know enough about myself to understand that I am worth more than what this human could ever give me. But even if he could conjure up the world, I would not want it from him.

If I am honest, I tolerated him because he was sad and I felt bad. I wanted to be his friend. I know what it is like to be down and want someone to understand. I wanted to hold him and tell him that it would be okay.

I told him I wanted to be friends. Many times I explained this but he ignored me. He needed a wet hole to shove himself in, I suppose. He was not very good at living long without that. I was just another woman for him to leave his semen in on and about.

Knowing he has harmed other women does not make me feel better. It makes me feel ill knowing there will be others after me. He will make more children that he will not take responsibility for. He will ruin more lives.

And what price does he pay?

Maybe some child support. Maybe someone will stand up to him and put his name on the internet and call him out on his horribleness.

But otherwise, he can live his life like he does not sexually assault drunk women, use woc, bully women into having abortions because he refuses to use a condom… oh just making this list is making me want to vomit!

How can humans treat other humans like this?