Done

Hi, Kitt

You seem to be saying that having sex with someone who is passed out drunk, as you did to me at SXSW in 2010, isn’t rape because you had also been drinking. Got it.

You’ve spent years lying to me and gaslighting me. That was emotional abuse, plain and simple. You acknowledged that in April of this year but now you seem to have reneged on that realization, calling what you did to me “love”.

Your taking pictures of hotel rooms to convince me you were staying there is gaslighting. Running out to the car to convince me you weren’t sleeping at the house is gaslighting. Running off to Starbucks to convince me you weren’t at the house was gaslighting. It’s turning the lamp down and telling me that I’m paranoid and controlling.

Every time I came to you to tell you how I felt, how your actions were hurtful, you told me I was an asshole for making you feel bad.

You told me you were divorcing Kris in 2010. A lie you maintained for a number of years and yet, here we are more than 14 years later and you are in fact, still married. You haven’t let go yet. When I ask for proof, as I did in 2011, and 2012, and 2017, and 2024, I’ve yet to receive it.

You narrative is not my data. Your interpretation of whatever you think Kris knows or thinks is not my data. I reject your narrative because it is unreliable. And your idea of providing proof is to filter everything and pretend you’ve somehow met my (extremely reasonable) need for honesty.

And so here we are.

I don’t want to be in a relationship with you. We’ve seen multiple therapists and we both agreed that the last one was the last time. We are incapable of communicating with each other.

I don’t want to be friends with you. I thought it was a possibility but with even more lies, the lack of acknowledgement, the insults, and your posts, I am done.

The list of things you have done to me is long and I would be here a very long time to list them. And I’m sure you could do the same.

Instead, I would very much like to “go the fuck away”. And to do so, I need you to stop. Stop posting about me. If you want to journal, do so in private. Our history doesn’t need to be out there for everybody. If you want to vent, go to a therapist. You can delete bigbeartinykit, too. You can reminisce with your own collection of photos. You have plenty.

You have a world of friends. Embrace them. Live life and fucking enjoy it. This is the only life we have and we shouldn’t be spending it trying to tear each other apart.