Why are you facebook still friends with a known abuser?
Why. are you. still
with a known abuser
How can you keep that company and still look me in the eye? To paraphrase another woman who had her consent abused: The shame of it all should crush you.
I don’t want to see ghost conversations on social media. I shouldn’t have to. I don’t want to walk with fists clenched, in fear and anger, when I visit my adopted home town. I shouldn’t have to. I don’t want to be friends with friends of my enemy. I don’t want that for myself and for the – dozens – of other women who he made/makes/will make unsafe.
We shouldn’t fucking have to.
In my dreams he’s security at a gig, he floats passed iron railings at the beach, he slaps me and no one does a thing. I scream, I cry, I shout and punch and kick and spit. But no one does a thing.
I feel betrayed. I feel humiliated. I feel alone.
But at least, in my dreams, my stand-aside friends don’t make excuses for themselves, or for him.
I hope that this is the last thing I ever have to write to remind you.