Goodbye Forever

Jeffrey,

I’m getting ready to leave Pocatello. It has been hell here—heavy, haunted, chaotic—and the things that linger from years ago simply won’t leave me in peace. I’m leaving with very little, but that’s alright.

Lily will be at Mom and Dad’s. If you want her, you can take her. If not, I will retrieve her when I am able—though I don’t know when that will be.

There can be no going back for us. The sacredness of what we had can’t be rebuilt. I’m sad that when I look back, it won’t be with fondness or happiness, but with regret. I hope that isn’t how it is for you, but your silence makes me believe it is.

I hope you find peace and joy in the life you choose.
By the time you read this, my phone number will be changed and all my social media accounts will be closed. Canda and Dave—Mom and Dad—do not know where I’m going. No one does.

If you ever cared for me, please leave it that way.
If you leave me to my solitude, that is how I will know you loved me.

I no longer believe in our union—not in its spiritual validity, nor in any remaining covenant between us. I’m not saying this because I intend to seek another marriage; I won’t. I do not intend to date at all. My ability to love has been deliberately shut down, and the traumas, harassment, and ongoing abuse—especially since you’ve been gone—have shown me that people come at too great a cost.

You knew long before we married that this was a risk for me.
It turned out to be the greatest mistake of my life.
I assume your silence means you feel similarly.

I wanted to say goodbye properly—and goodbye forever.
For all of eternity, our paths part here.
That is simply the truth of it.

Thank you for teaching me that love is a story I can no longer believe in, and that connection often ends in cruelty.

Yours in regret,
Dusty Ray

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Trapped in Harassment

Image
Trapped in Harassment I don’t understand why I’m still being harassed. For over two or three years now, I’ve been forced to guess why certain people keep coming after me, tormenting me with the weirdest and darkest things. They say things like “clean your teeth.” What the hell is that even supposed to mean? They mock me with nonsense, twist my reality, and leave me questioning my own sanity while they sit back and feed on my suffering. This harassment has been constant, unrelenting, and cruel. It doesn’t come from just one place—it feels orchestrated, as though multiple hands are playing a sick, manipulative game. They say things like “Jeffrey caused this.” They drag names into it: the Irishes, Webbs, Russells, Livingstons, and so many others. They throw the Odd Fellows under the bus. They twist it in such a way that directly identifying them is nearly impossible without involving the police again. They use technology—voice modulators, mimicers, anonymous accounts—to hide b...
Read more

THE LUMINOUS SHADOW

Image
THE LUMINOUS SHADOW A Treatise on the Alchemy of the Reactive Soul, the Chthonic Crucible, and the Emergence of the Dark Empath Integrating Neuroscience, Depth Psychology, Stoic and Epicurean Philosophy,  Greco-Roman Pagan Theology, Jungian Analysis, and the Ancient Mystery Traditions  into a Unified Account of Trauma, Transformation, and Sovereign Becoming PROEM: The Eternal Return of the Wounded In the vast tapestry of human existence, where the threads of soul and shadow intertwine beneath the gaze of ancient stars and the indifferent turning of cosmic wheels, there lives a story as old as the first fires lit in caves — older, perhaps, than language itself, older than the myths we fashioned to explain our own suffering. It is not a story that announces itself with thunder or proclamation. It arrives in whispers: a subtle wrongness in a glance, a slight tilting of the world, a phrase spoken with just enough ambiguity to make you doubt your own comprehension. ...
Read more

The Total Pattern

Image
The Total Pattern A Literary Novella of Relational Architecture Preamble In the vast, echoing cathedral of human connection, certain patterns repeat with the quiet inevitability of tides drawn by an unseen moon. Not because they are chosen, but because they are structural—woven from the restless rivers of neurocognitive compulsion, the ancient stonework of attachment wounds, the flickering candlelight of affective tempests, and the fragile, mirrored scaffolding of a self that has never learned to stand alone. This is not a tale of villainy or redemption. It is a portrait of an archetype, rendered in the merciless, luminous light of literary truth. Here the creature is neither monster nor martyr in any simple sense; it is a living architecture: ADHD currents of novelty and hyperfocus colliding with avoidant foundations of distance, borderline markers of idealization and devaluation flickering against the low, constant music of anxiety and depression, histories of suicidal id...
Read more