People don't get it...

Nor will they ever. You can't live in my skin or know how my brain is spinning.

I think I'd like to be normal...that shit ain't happin any time soon.

The last few months have been bad. It's like his hand is on my shoulder all the fucking time. I wake up fighting and no one.

It took me two weeks to work up the courage to go to the department of mental health. Robert drove me and went in to the session with me.

"So, tell me why your here." she said.

"Domestic violence."

"How long were you in the relationship?"

"Fuck...a decade." I said.

"Did he ever try to kill you?" Heh...that was a fucking funny question that made me want to punch a wall.

Then I heard Robert. "Yes, he's tried several times."

I don't want to remember this fucking shit. Unfortunately my memory has a different agenda.

"Are you suicidal?" She asked.

"Not today."