Why?

Sometimes there's a lot of anger, sometimes sadness. The feeling of being powerless.

But I'm always wondering why. What made him hate me so much? What made him want to hurt me so badly? What made him lie and steal and threaten and beat up my dad?

Why? How can a person want to be so mean?

If it was just my valuables and not my clothes and my teddy bear and the things I knitted I guess I could have understood that. I guess I would have thought that it was just about the money that he could get from selling my stuff. But it's so much more. He couldn't sell my underwear. He must have taken it only to hurt me. And to want to hurt someone so much, it's scary. It's sick.

I can't understand it. I can't understand why.

Better better better

I realized yesterday that I haven't cried as much since I moved to my new home as I used to. I still have bad days but the soul crushing blackness is gone.

I was so sad when I lived with him. He made me so miserable. He might have stolen my sewing machine and my underwear and a skein of marks & kattens "Madrid" and all my photos but at least I'm free from the horrible darkness of living with a psycho. At least I'm not constantly worried about his mood. If he's going to explode over some meaningless little thing.

He's a little bit like my ex only more evil and less attractive (and my ex was not very attractive). Come to think of it my ex, the compulsive liar, seems pretty nice in comparison. So there's that. At least I wasn't in a relationship with this one. Hah.

I realize daily things that I miss. A shawl I knitted. Things I made when I was a blacksmith. The last ball of the yarn I needed to finish a project. But the feeling of lightness that comes from not living with him anymore makes it easier to bear.