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This diary entry is written by Kablammo_Dude. ( View all entries )
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I stole her painCategory: (general)
Monday, 5 September 2011
12:22:15 AM (GMT)
Most of us learn at a young age that it is bad to steal things.
I agree, but recently I have noticed that I am quite the little thief.
I like to take the bad things from her, and keep them for myself.

I don't mean physical things, and there is no way anyone could understand.
You don't believe me, do you?
She used to cut.
She used to do heroin. 
She used to be bulimic.
She used to hear voices.
She used to think she was crazy.
She used to feel alone.
She used to want to kill herself.
She used to not understand how different she is.
Neither did I.
I stole them all.
Every last one of them!
From the moment I met her, I made up my mind to try help her as best as I could.
If I had to, I would take her problems and make them mine. 
Little did I know, I could actually do it.
If you don't believe in paranormal, or spiritual, or supernatural things, stop
Don't waste my time, or yours.
These diaries are really for me anyway, to remember, and for her, to remind her that
I love her.
I asked.
I asked every night.
To whatever forces, or powers, or beings, or whatever were listening. 
Apparently, something was listening, and felt the sincerity in my requests.
She stopped hearing voices.
For the first time in a long time, without drugs, she had peace, and still does.
She can't explain it, neither can I, but I won't complain.
I have kept her off of drugs, and away from the bottle that so often called her
She hasn't touched heroin in almost seventy days, which is amazing. 
We promised each other that we would only drink or do things when we are with each
other or trusted friends, and that deal has worked out nicely.
She keeps me clean, I keep her clean.
We still experiment on occasion, and always will, because honestly some drugs aren't
what they are made out to be by parents and the government.
Like weed for example...
but anyway...
I don't need drugs.
She doesn't either.
Each others company is more than enough to make us happy 
She hasn't cut in a long time, and won't for the rest of her life, as far as I am
The butterflies are working quite nicely, for the first time in her life, and I will
continue to make more and more.
and more.
I got her medicine for her stomach.
The years of bulimia really did damage to the lining of her stomach and esophagus,
but I did some research, and gave her medicine, that seems to be helping.
Having a mom who is a nurse comes in handy.
Her stomach still gives her a lot of discomfort, but it is getting better.
Today, her stomach was being rude, so I wanted to try something.
I lifted her shirt, placed my hand on her stomach, told her to relax, trust me, and
focus on her breathing.
I stole her pain.
I didn't think I could do it, but I was curious.
I filled her with good energy, sent scenarios, thoughts, and words to her mind
without speaking.
I changed the way she thought, I helped her relax and feel better.
I moved my hand around her stomach, and I began to draw the bad energy out of her.
Apparently it worked.
When I talked to her, she said she felt better.
She even felt better for the next couple of hours until she fell asleep.
All in her head?
Who cares?
It works.
We have both realized that we are different.
Her gift is much greater, in my opinion.
She can hear, and see spirits, on occasion, and she truly has the potential to help a
lot of people.
I have learned that I see energy.
I see colors, shapes, patterns, even faces.
I feel energy around me, and can pick up on the emotions and thoughts of those who I
believe are passed away.
I also believe I can manipulate this energy, to some degree.
I can make her feel better, take her problems away and make them my own.
Still don't believe me???
This comes with a price though.
She is happy, and I realize that without me, she likely would not be.
She would either be addicted to heroin, in a mental institution, or dead.
That's a hell of a way to make a guy feel loved, right?
However, I feel the problems that have mysteriously vanished from her.
I don't feel them all of the time, but sometimes, I hear the voices in my head and
they won't shut up.
They drive me insane with worry and doubt, and mistrust.
Sometimes I want to cut, really badly.
I even think about heroin, quite a bit, and I swore I would never touch the stuff.
This is all stuff I can deal with, and I won't give in to my urges.
It is all worth it to give her the life of peace she deserves.
We are connected in a way that no one could or will ever understand.
I feel her inside me all of the time, in my chest.
I feel her pain, her thoughts, her emotions.
I know what she will text me before I receive it.
I rather enjoy that.
We think alike on almost every subject, we are both easily amused and distracted.
We have the same interests and similar emotions.
but we are just different enough to keep us curious, and make the compatibility work
I have found my soulmate, and I wake up every morning in a state of disbelief that
continues until I get to hold her again.
It is almost like we are the same person sometimes, and it is so amazingly bizarre.
Still don't believe me?
From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I was in love. 
It sounds cheesy, but I knew we would be together.
I couldn't keep my mind off of her.
When I realized how much she has had to go through, I wanted to take all of the bad
away from her, all of the hurt.
Little did I know how much help I could actually offer.
I set out to lend a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, to be the person to listen
and understand.
Instead, I stole her pain.
She's never getting it back.

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