As I sit here in a heap of tears...I think it is about time I write a blog on this while it is still fresh on my memory and the feelings are still raw. Time seems to block out those sad memories and make traumatizing events smaller...but that does not take away from their significance. This morning a man I have been casually 'dating' ripped the bed sheets off me (for the second morning in a row), aggressively grabbed my arm, and thrust me out the door, flinging my belongings after me. 'I'm sick of this every morning!' he hisses loudly 'I have to be somewhere, and you make me late every day!'. Shook up and distressed, I sat on the step outside his apartment, gathering my disordered belongings. He snapped his head around the corner and approached me aggressively, making me flinch automatically. He then grabbed my arm and bags and shoved me out the door, extremely forcefully, making sure I felt every jolt. He has been "helping" and abusing me simultaneously...thus is the life of the homeless person. On the one hand, anyone willing to sit them up for the night is thoughtful and humanitarian, yet, by the same token since it is on a charity basis...abuse is far more readily tolerated. For instance, it was this guy that convinced me to start this very blog; his mother is a writer and he lavished me with compliments, telling me my writing is second to none. He helped me with my C.V and even invited me to one of the courses he is teaching on how to find work. He also held me up on numerous occasions when I was stuck for somewhere to sleep, and my only option was a sleeping bag, or merchants Quay (a hall full of drug addicts and drunks, sleeping on mattresses together). Last night was one of those nights. I arrived late (about 1:20am) and to say he was unimpressed is an understatement. He rang me when I was about ten minutes from the house calling the plan off. Clearly, caring about whether or not I slept rough wasn't of any significant importance to him. After hanging up on me numerous times (for some reason) he eventually picked up, and resumed his offer. Desperation got the better of me, and even though I knew I was walking in to a potentially disparaging situation, I proceeded...I was gripped with the fear of having to tolerate drunkards and drug users. The smell of beer breath and sweat was really not something I was in the mood to sleep through. My confidence has been eroded so badly by abuse from druggies and drunks that any potentially abusive situation seems commonplace to me now. Abuse has become a familiarity. My mother and father abused me as a kid, friends abused me in school, peers racially and emotionally abused me in college, my ex boyfriend abused me, and now I've run in to another person more than happy to corrupt me even further. And why? Because I am desperate for some where nice and quiet to lay my head down. I swear this guy is ten times stricter than the homeless hostel staff in the mornings. He ripped the covers off me, and then started ranting on about how lazy, unmotivated and stupid I am. I snapped back, as any one at the tail end of abuse would, and he made me feel guilty for safe guarding myself against his jabs at my personality. The crux of the matter is that I am in his house. There is no denying it, I am on his property. However, I am not his property, this is something he doesn't understand. As the saying goes, if you can't handle the fire - get out of the kitchen. However, he has totally taken my desperate sittuation as an excuse to abuse me. He is the typical abuser at that, and he knows it. I think he has always secretly resented me, and this was waiting to happen. He is infernally telling me how he gets 'really weird vibes' off me, and that I am constantly 'crossing his boundaries'. I won't even get in to how he continually gives me a patronizing quizzical look which leaves me confounded. It is something like Hillary Duff's face in Lizzy Maguire when she talks to Gordo.
He is so abominably rude...but then again, I am made feel bad, as it is his house.
It's like non stop Britney 'shade face' with him. It's as if he is saying 'I'm offering you somewhere to stay...but why in God's name are you taking me up on it?'
Because I am desperate can't you tell!?!
He is definitely the bitchiest man I've ever known, and I have no idea why he thinks he has that authority over me. A wallop in his snide little mug is what he deserves. However, I thwart that thought automatically...why? Because I have a soft spot for Colombians; and that is where he is from. He is both cursed and blessed; blessed with being super cute and kind at times, and cursed with a nasty spiteful attitude. He is also adopted, so he has a big long sob story, and I just can't stay mad at someone like that. So, without fail, the arguments are forgotten (on his part). However, each dig lingers in my mind and soul. He hurts me, each time, yet he is determined to continue his barrage of abuse. He is intent on taking me down peg-by-peg.
The worst part is, I told him my life story. He knows all my deepest
darkest secrets (as I know his). At the moment he feels closer to me
than family; not completely dissimilar to a cult. Reel you in and make
you comfortable...then use all the information gathered when you were
"friends" to take advantage of you.
I have put my well being and self worth in the hands of a dictionary-definition sadist
sadism (ˈseɪdɪzəm
; ˈsæ-)
Definitions
noun
the gaining of pleasure or sexual gratification from the infliction of pain and mental
suffering on another person . See also algolagnia . Compare masochism
This is the desperation of homelessness. This is the pay off. This is the state of mind. This is the hopelessness, anguish and rashness one feels when no one near and dear is willing to help.
No doubt I'll get a phone call off him this evening to sort it all out over 'black coffee' (he can't afford milk because he gambled away his week's dole)
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