My doctor says I have to write a letter to you about all the lies you told me while we were married. I told him that you’d never read it. I told him you never cared about anything I had to say. He’s told me in the past that you sounded like a classic narcissist, so I know I’m probably right.
Did you know there’s such a thing as a narcissist? That it’s not just a self-centered person but someone with a shattered personality?
Narcissists are charming, Richard, they become whatever you need them to be when they want something from you and they become monsters when you can’t, or won’t, give them what they want. If you aren’t feeding a narcissist pretty pictures of themselves, if you have needs of your own, well then a narcissist finds you disposable.
So I guess that’s the first lie you ever told me. You said you loved me.
You lied when you said we’d have a house and kids, that we’d build a life together and grow old. You lied when you said there was hope for us and we had good reasons to stay together. You told me your rages were all my fault and that if I just learned how not to make you mad we’d be fine. I just had to be sensitive. You said I was lying when I told you I felt like I was walking on egg shells, felt like I lived in a war zone, felt like I was in prison. You said you didn’t need to go to a doctor, to a psychologist, to rage classes or a priest.
When you started hurting me, you said I was exaggerating my pain and making too much of my injuries. You made me tell my mother…my whole family…I fell down stairs at work when I broke my leg. When you sent me to the hospital with a sliced up arm, I had to tell the doctors that I hurt myself because you were right there in the corner watching me.
I think every happy minute we ever spent together was a lie, Richard. It just set the trap for the agony of every evening I spent without you, every new girlfriend you made sure I found out about, every time I looked for you in my bed and didn’t find you there.
I didn’t lie to you when I said I loved you, Richard. I didn’t lie when I said I’d stick with you through thick and thin. I didn’t lie when I promised “til death do us part”.
I lied to you only once, Richard, and that’s when I said the gun wasn’t loaded.
But I had to…or you’d have taken it away from me. You thought it was a joke, that I was a joke, and you laughed at me.
You called me your little “mouse” until you heard me roar.
I’m sorry I killed you, Richard and your little girlfriend too. But, as you so often used to say, people in love sometimes hurt one another.
This time, for the first time, I hurt you.
Now that I’ve finished this stupid assignment the Doctor will have to let me spend an hour in the prison garden, and maybe next week I’ll get to watch some TV.
Someday they’ll let me out of here Richard and I promise I’ll visit your grave and give you some flowers. You always used to apologize to me when you hurt me Richard, and one day I’ll get to return the favor.
I look forward to that day Richard, and then I look forward to living the rest of my life without you.