TUESDAY, JUNE 9^th, 2020

[1830] all i used to think of was drugging him, tying him down until he wakes up, then waterboarding him to death. i wanted him to beg me for his life. i wanted to take anything that has ever brought him joy in life and burn it to the ground. and it could've all been so fucking easy if not for you. fuck you for limiting me. i could've done so much if it wasn't for you and i resent you for it. fuck you for making me feel so human, for giving me reasons to hold back.

[1910] the fact that i have ever believed that he's changed made me feel pathetic. i planned to break his heart in the worst way humanly possible. i can only imagine him when i'm finally so far away that i can send him tapes. i can already feel his hands trembling when he watches me. he's going to cry, he's going to shake, he's going to keep watching because he wants to believe it's not me. that's fucking right, i'm everything you abused me to be against and you're fucking stupid for ever thinking your ways were right. you raised a blasphemous harlot, a godless bitch.

[1936] i wanted to make the last years of his life a fucking hell. every fucking week he would've had to experience that. he would've had to watch me cutting myself since i was twelve because of him, drugging myself up age fifteen because of him, to see all the horrifying detailed plans ive designed with him in the house.

[1955] i'm going to hurt him with what he loves to most. this stupid fucking book he calls god, im going to piss all over it. he's going to watch me pissing all over the book in the name of which he was blinded enough to be like this. watch me, widowfucker, this is your book? this is your fucking god? is piss flammable?