User:Irkirkirk

Dearest Kina,

This is my suicide note.

I cannot live without you. Your life, on the other hand, will be objectively better without me. No more drama. You can live your life however you want, without having to give any thought to how badly I hurt.

You are cruel to me, sweetness. I don't know if you're incapable of showing compassion, or just unwilling to show compassion. You mask this with your therapist, and your coworkers, but they aren't there when you go into a narcissistic snit because I ask you to please not treat me like an object. You lie about just how little you think of me, but your body language does not.

You give me everything you think I want, except what I need the most (and what I keep begging you for): emotional support. Empathy. Compassion. Anything that's beyond "oh, you hurt? Sucks to be you". Just a kind word, just a fraction of genuine empathy, would mean the world to me -- but I can count on the fingers of one hand how many times that has happened in the past five years.

Every discussion about how your behavior hurts me, no matter how I approached it, follows the same progression:


 * DARVO. Every.  Single.  Time.
 * Fight-or-flight. I beg you to please not leave me, because if you go you will never come back and I will be in the hell of isolation ... and you finally did.
 * False détente. I keep talking to you, trying to understand why you're intentionally hurting me, trying to explain how badly I hurt, and how this is going to eventually kill me.  You tire, we hug
 * The two-week countdown to a repeat incident starts.

You were all that I had. I thought that I had found the one person that I could count on to be with me, through good and bad, sharing joy and sadness, that would cheer me up when I'm feeling down, and who I could do the same with.

I am willing to blame myself for everything -- say it's all my fault, of course I'm overreacting when I ask you to not get trashed with your coworkers and stay the night at a random (male) coworker's apartment. To ignore the clear signs that you are, at the very least, cheating on me emotionally. To ignore that this is the exact same progression that you did with your ex-fiancee, cheating with me on him. To go to couples' therapy, with the hope that somehow this would all finally make sense. To take whatever medicine necessary to make my reaction to the above conform to your expectations for the reaction of a loving partner. Hell, I would even commit myself as an inpatient in a psych facility, if it meant that it would somehow reset all of this.

It doesn't look like that's a possibility, though. I believe that your therapist, and/or the divorce lawyer you (almost to a certainty) consulted, advised you to go no-contact. Doing that has cast the die; I cannot take the isolation. I cannot endure, knowing that the only person in my life does not care for me (and, per the outburst immediately prior to your departure, probably never did).

If only you would talk to me ... but you won't.

I don't have the strength to pick up the pieces and start again. If you come back, I know that this will just happen again within a fortnight; I can't take any more.

So I'm ending my life. I write this as I await delivery of the items I need for a peaceful exit; when they arrive, I will share this link with you and start the process. My body will be in your old work room. The room will be filled with carbon monoxide, which is (obviously) very lethal. There will be a sign on the door saying "Carbon monoxide inside, do not enter without taking precautions", and I suggest that it be taken seriously.

Please, please take care of our furry overlords. Please do not take out your anger on them; they are innocent.

I love you so very much,

-- Chris