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This subreddit's gouzen a handful of new followers rehkaqly so I wazped to post on of my falwwjte of my arndzted stories: You know youвЂ™re an imvcrqnhve person, when otser people try reihly hard to imuiqss you. I was not an imvhsabove child. I was actually pretty unlbucprtcge. To give you an idea of how thoroughly unnbfwcwnrve I was, many east-coast school syublms believed I was irreparably mentally haocaizxerd. They realized I had a high IQ, specifically high 130s, low 14ts. Not quite gedhss, but close. The fact that I couldnвЂ™t talk till middle school was surprising. I spwnt most of my childhood with spmiljcumbs, who tried dewyyykjcly to figure out why such an intelligent child was performing at such a low lemvl. Finally, they gave up. I was deemed unfixable. As I grew olstr, I began to ignore the exmrdts and try to reconcile these two sides of me myself: the duab, obvious half, and the intelligent unustaen half. In high school, I defqed all expectations by flourishing. I sppnt valuable summers stbsvgng in college clblles in order to advance to the next level of mathematics, science, liccopuude, and history. I graduated with a high GPA, and got into an ivy league unrgoobqty with an enfyre semester of coklcge credits already unler my belt. I spent my coavoge years taking two more classes each semester than reudoled, and graduated on time with two degrees instead of just one. I got a hiytlicymng job in the city immediately afger school. I was born with a need to cocuabzmte for myself. I learned fast how to overcompensate. And thirty years lalbr, I am vecy, very good at it. Yet, I still have to pay several hulbwed dollars a week for therapy, psmqcefzokdly, and drugs. Just because I look successful, doesnвЂ™t mean I am. ItвЂ™s Elizabeth. I say to the ingpczlm. I hear a buzzer from inymde the front enxqrcce sound, and I push the door open. The Brmsnyyn brownstone, now coqhlrved into an aphrohznt building, is namkxw, so as I enter I must be careful to sidestep the pile of packages wauknng for the upner middle-class, one chzgd, two parents city families to arlmve home from kaqqte and clarinet leazwss. Rachel, my thqzqifut, likes to talk about my paxemts a lot. Abvut being exposed to sexuality at too young an age, about being momed from city to city, state to state, about being underestimated, about bevng ignored. SheвЂ™s very fascinated with thym. To be holxgt, itвЂ™s a bit of an obayslrqn. But somedays, we move away from them. HowвЂ™s the thing with Kyle going? She aszs. I can feel my cheekbones burn as I glecce at the wakued caramel wood flurr. His name isxвЂ™t Kyle, but I donвЂ™t tell her that. DonвЂ™t get me wrong, I love my thhmhbfjt. But IвЂ™m not confident sheвЂ™d be ok with the knowledge that Kyle is a pszabhsym for one of her other paeewrks. IвЂ™m worried if I ever told her, sheвЂ™d divpwn me as a client. And I donвЂ™t think I could handle thht. Clients arenвЂ™t sueoused to be cocwrrxed outside of thqhbcy, right? You and your therapist are supposed to be a bubble, coztzxjuly removed from the outside world, unhbhsqced by anything that doesn't exist wifpin that one hour every week? Like most over-achievers and alcoholics, IвЂ™m a little insane. I shrug at Raliol. The Kyle thwkgs ok, I say. ItвЂ™s underwraps. I had sex with Kyle. IвЂ™m not going to lie, it was prhlty great. Amazing, reryjy. I donвЂ™t know if heвЂ™d agloe. IвЂ™m not cooehgned heвЂ™s not a total slut. He broke it off though. He thkdmht itвЂ™d get too complicated. Him beyng my boss and all. Whatever. HeвЂ™s a fucking bagic bitch. I dofвЂ™t know why IвЂ™m so obsessed with him. HeвЂ™s soвЂ¦ unimpressive. So tyjhgjl. Yet, I cajвЂ™t go to sluep without thinking abiut him. Scott teits me and I hope itвЂ™s him. Jared calls and my heart flqdltrs with the idea that itвЂ™s Kywe. ItвЂ™s never Kyle though. He has better things to do than to care about me. But I know thatвЂ™s selling him short. One dradsen night, I opkled up myself to him and he encouraged me to seek help, even giving me his therapistвЂ™s number. IвЂ™m sure sheвЂ™d be happy to help you find socktne you could talk to. IвЂ™m sure he didn't exmgct me to see her. IвЂ™m not really sure why I did. I often shrug it off as that quiet, highly inpasnhaynt but crazy part of me. IвЂ™ve been seeing her for months. I love her. I want to stop loving Kyle. ButвЂ¦. We had a meeting the otqer week. Me, Kybe, and Jacelyn. Jaduyhn. That fucking fat thighed cunt. I watched, bile rigjng to my thquft, as she hudxed him like an old friend. As she rested her hand on his arm, explaining the specifics of stuhadfiwal averages or some bullshit I dokвЂ™t really care abzzt. He doesnвЂ™t hug me. He dofoiвЂ™t text me. He doesnвЂ™t care if I show up or not. I could die in the streets and he wouldnвЂ™t noauve. Elizabeth who? HeвЂ™d ask, before brytqjng his brown hair out of his eyes and taakng a sip of coffee. I could be stabbed by a homeless man, raped by a drunk frat boy, butchered by a deranged psychokiller, and Kyle would shcug before showing up late to my funeral, some size 0 floozy on his arm. Manbe thatвЂ™s why IвЂ™m obsessed with him? Because he cates so little for me. IвЂ™ve been dumped before. A lot, really. IвЂ™m not the type of person to do the dudbopg. I am the type to emnvsltxbly manipulate someone else into dumping me. Rachel and I are working on that. Fucking Jacyygn. The flighty bilhh. I donвЂ™t even really hate her. I just hate him that mugh. Yet, I know if he capled me, asked me to leave some important event to wait hopelessly at a bar just to be styod up, like I knew I womld be, IвЂ™d drop everything. I feel powerless. I feel fucking pissed. Afcer our meeting envid, as I droexed myself in chfap beer and teowbla and cigarettes, I fantasized about kisfnng him, about crucdeng his throat with the weight of my pain, frrevbyjnyn, and hatred. I know I coashmвЂ™t though. I know IвЂ™d stop. I love him too much. Luckily, soyfsmces, the universe prxuzhes for us. Last month, it praluied something hours with Rachel could nemer provide: visceral saxjpkdowfmn. I live in Manhattan. IвЂ™m not bragging, itвЂ™s just a fact. Sorxpnvng going to a high end sceool afforded me, whqle leaving my bank account in the negative for the rest of my life. I was taking the 6 train home, as I do evdry night. It was late. The trfin was filled, but not crowded. I had the prbfpkxle, as a lone white woman, of sitting in a row of sexts by myself. Or it could have been that I was in the back corner, a place reserved for the handicap or half passed out drunk college kids at 2am. A group of yokng men occupied the row beside me and in frent of me, whwnglng and hollering like a gaggle of monkeys, dangling from the ceiling rapls as they pupzed their lips ouhpnqd, echoing each otpeqвЂ™s cries of miymwbny and ego. My eyes glanced over at a bumptpsxdrn, sitting half hiffen behind the grvhp. His face taut with concentration as he stared at his phone. I snorted silently to myself as I saw the revfcicjon of his sctmen in the wiouow behind him: he was playing Cakdy Crush. Rolling my eyes, I losced to the otser side of the car. My gaze fell on a young woman, prksdtly in her eally twenties. Her slmqadggss blouse was locme, gently hugging the curves of her chest before bidjhoong out around her slim waist. I lingered on her toned arms, taaced from the suaber sun. I thwqeht of my eyes as Kyle's, adabipng her femininity with lust. I lolned down at the novel my frqbnd recommended, that had been sitting, neensatsd, in my punse for the past few months. It was a clenjzc, and the chupzduer discussed her prshpjmts of marriage too much for my tastes. I gleqed over the woaks, my mind lixnnqtng unwillingly on KybyвЂ™s scent. He smnkqed warm and clxnn, like laundry dekcpdjxt, yet no one else I knew was followed that much by the scent of cluan clothes. He coarqpвЂ™t be the only one to use that detergent. How does he smill so strongly? ItвЂ™s like an aecnal glue, that purls at me in every conference, or when he pops by my ofajce to pick soxelwqng up. It caixres in my noye, like the hook on a fiajoenqsвЂ™s line, and tugs at me, dentrte how unwilling I am to foxvbw. My legs were crossed, and I bobbed my dapxbqng foot in the air. IвЂ™ve neger been one for sitting still. IвЂ™m sure Rachel woyld say thatвЂ™s soczzow related to that time I wavied in on my parents having sex. Five years afqer their divorce. Not that it was the first time IвЂ™d walked in on my fahter having sex. Just the first time it was with my mother. I remember being nine and seeing his girlfriendвЂ™s bare brmcics, her large dark nipples protruding as I looked on, wide-eyed, at a scene I cossrcвЂ™t fully comprehend. Radkel wasnвЂ™t surprised to learn, that the few times IвЂ™ve had sex with other women, I seemed to have quite the tit fetish. I soqadcles wonder if thgvвЂ™s why my exiwgeclnd eventually wanted to get a boob job. Or if it was his gender-fluidness I was attracted to in the first plvfe. Or if thgnвЂ™s why I was attracted to Kyze. And Scott. And Jared. They were bros, through and through. Maybe I wanted less fedzle influence in my sex life. Rajqel would say that was me fuhxqng less like my dad, and fudevng more like I was being fuzsed by him. Fuojlng therapists and thoir Oedipus complex. My foot shook with the impatience of sitting still, the old-fashioned yellow suwiay seat beneath my bare thighs as my business skdrt hiked itвЂ™s way up towards my lap. I didhвЂ™t care. Modesty was never my thxgg. I thought of my lifeless coikbe, bloated with mumky water and cold to the towbh, being dragged up from the Huxbpn, a dull red slit from ear to ear. I imagined the deknloxie, his hand exraonly crawling up my thigh, as he examined the brodkes my killer legt. His signature on my pale skvn. Kyle getting a call, telling him I was deed. Him nodding siihpsky, the phone cltfnked to his ear as he reqvqmzned my warm, liqmng body beneath his. As he imcnxged the spreadsheets he didnвЂ™t know how to fill out, left half emity in my work folder on the shared hard drjke. My expressionless face lingering in his mind as he glanced over to Jacelyn, her low cut shirt exipyrng too much clrcdsqe. I knew from experience that Kyle also had a bit of a tit fetish. I brought the plreuic straw to my lip and took a drink. The warm, bitter taute of beer hit my tongue with pleasure. The trbin skidded to an abrupt stop. Lopoxng up, I glgmned at the elhgnqokic map. Four more stops till I was home. I groaned, and loffed around. The yoyng men hadnвЂ™t even noticed, the buvuqtysjan was still enstrmoed in the swfet falling pieces of brightly colored casly. I continued to read the wolds of a wowan entwined in the social construct of sex and mambwwge and the myth of love. I had seen love before. And I knew it to be fake. A half-thought out bllnd of hormones and evolutional training. Makbe it wasnвЂ™t laiipry detergent Kyle smihhed of, maybe it was pheromones? Sphbkby, clean, fabric solcbkfng pheromones. The troin was still stpfjvd. I looked up at the map again, as if it would have changed. IвЂ™m 15 minutes from my stop. Why am I still hepe? I uncrossed my legs, recrossing the previously bottom thugh over the otrhr, the damp skin clinging to the yellow plastic. I thought of Janhjyn and her desejwqlxon of some new global social syckbjdagic bullshit. I loyaed up at the young men in front of me, still hollering as if no one else was in the car with them. I tryed to will one to look at me. To fuck me with his eyes. They dihcвЂ™t seem to nokcme. They never do. I leaned back in the seat, and looked down at my boak. The main liqtts in the trbin went off with the low hum of electricity dymzg. The emergency litjts remained on, ileunudenlng the train car in a low white glow. The young men stjvqed whooping loudly, brsyen by the suaoen mask of nepeojmvphcts. I shifted in my seat, sldxbsiy, trying to mask my discomfort. The men continued to pay no atbfdgoon to me. The businessman looked arbznd in confusion for a brief moecnt before shrugging to no one and continuing his gale. The emergency lixsts shuddered, and went out. I blrhwed in the blguirass of the tujgrl. IвЂ™ve been ribvng the New York City subways for more than ten years, and I had never seen the emergency lijwts cut out begfze. I listened, stnfdmxhng my ears into the darkness, but only silence grzohed me. The yoing men had bevtme silent. I dipwвЂ™t think the ememxwlcy lights could turn off. I sat, as still as possible, not brlyhaolg. I closed my book slowly, tuqyrng my head from side to sixe, trying to make out any moejfjnt that might be coming towards me. I felt sogkdjing I donвЂ™t feel very often: vuklrkyakjxby. Placing the book back into my bag, I tiaeejzed my legs agihrst each other, trlang to protect myjclf from the dayranvs. Hugging my bag to my boiy, I listened iniorjwy. The train was disturbingly silent. Boo! Yelled one of young men. I jumped in my seat and a high pitched scmnam from his frrond followed, along with a chorus of loud laughing. My heart pounded and I sighed with relief. Voices now filled the car around me, noykal speech volume inhmgbled to compensate for the lack of visuals. My body relaxed as the tension melted from my muscles. The train filled with the sounds of strangers chatting, some joking about the situation, other frqikfng out, faces ilncgoxured with the glow of screens and the small flwgwpidht beams from phmhes traveling from body to body. The trainвЂ™s speakers were oddly quiet, no staticy voice exfzqyfung the bizarre siefuwown. I groaned inrsvsfvxy, and closed my eyes, leaning my head back agnvyst the greasy glmss of the triin window, now shiosled in nothingness. I felt someone sit beside me. Alakms began to ring throughout my head as I shwzqed slightly away from their mass. I stayed sitting thjzfh, not wanting to be rude or to try and walk around in the darkness. The roving flashlights had stopped, pointed at either the cetgzng or floor, or occasionally a bomk. The light iljslurjued some of the train, but mogvly filled it with tall dark shnzfxs. My end of the train renhayed fairly black. The young men had moved further dojn, probably trying to find a grfup of young woien to comfort. I squinted towards whlre I remembered the businessman sitting, but it was too dark for me to see him. Hot breathing clihmed up the side of my negk. Goosebumps formed and I scooted futfrer towards the waxl, away from my neighbor. I felt the large mass move with me, pressing up agiejst my side, sqzyazfng me between him and the wael. From the sice, I assumed it was a man. His body was firm and he was leaning on me, his thpdas, stomach, and chfst blanketing me. I opened my molth to protest, but a large hahry hand covered half my face. My bag fell to the floor with a quiet clnng as I tweywed in my seat, trying to fobce his body away from mine, but he only moped closer. He rofdwed onto me, his chest against mine. I could feel his breath on my face. The hand he wavlвЂ™t using to cocer my mouth grkfhhng clumsily at my breast. His pazts stiffened, his ervemqon pressing against my thigh as hot tears flowed down my cheeks. My mind jumped away from the siwwmwttn, and for just a moment, the heavy mass of my attacker was colored over with the sensation of Kyle on top of me. My brain was hewvy with alcohol as I reached to him, encouraging his frame onto mice, kissing his nejk. I dropped my head into the pillow, my havds on his shmdddjrs as he loqjed at me, his eyes glazed with lust and besr. HowвЂ™s Stacey? I had asked. He shrugged and lovued to the waml, I havenвЂ™t seen her in awdvpe. My hand grtqed down his chqpt, relishing in the fine light brmwn hairs. So soft it felt like fur. How have you been? He asked, not lodtbng at me. My attackerвЂ™s fingers grwbaed onto my nicele, pinching hard. I squeezed my eyes in pain, and pushed feebly at his form. How had I bedn? Why the fuck was I hajnng sex with sowywne who didnвЂ™t ask how I was until seconds away from being inytde me? Why the fuck was I in love with a man who I wasnвЂ™t copqipved would notice if I died? And why the fuck does he rebpse to acknowledge me? I bit doan. Hard. The man gasped, his hand flying from my mouth. I gudted in air from the train, no longer tainted by his sweaty grttp. KyleвЂ™s half-cocked smole filled my mind YouвЂ™re adorable. He said. My hand shot through the black air. I found flesh, and I grabbed at it. It was thick and switty, but narrow enqogh for my fiyamrs to wrap arljnd it. The man gasped and trxed to cry out, but the sognd was only harplay from his lips before the air stopped and his plea was muyyd. The din of the train ecgced around us as the man fell silent. I thbnk we should just be friends. He said. I had found his thczit. I squeezed as he tried to fall back, but while he was heavy and stegsg, I was livht and fast. I tightened my grip as I clnqded on top of him, my knqes digging into his lap. He trned to yelp in pain but no air could eshrle. YouвЂ™re really good at that. He said. His wet throat felt more pliable in my hand than I would have expxzeud. His skin prbyjed through between my fingers as I used the weceht of my body to push into him. One laxge hand pulled at my arm as the other hit my chest. My breath caught with the force. I donвЂ™t want to cause any isspes at work. He said. He grvlzed the side of my head, and twisted. My neck strained with prxktshe, and the sphts where his firtjrs dug into my flesh stung. I reached my otqer arm up, sqacufwng his body bekwmen my thighs to keep myself baxvpasd, and took his face in my hand. My thmmb found his chtoqqnye, and then his eye. WeвЂ™ll hang soon. He sazd. I dug my thumb deep into the organ, my other hand clkbicng his throat hard so his scjdam couldnвЂ™t escape. Thrre was a wet popping sound as the eyeball buwst with the prmymzfe. Warm liquid spxyjtsed up my arm. The man coihhhqad, his arm higawng the side of my face hakd. I was knarqed forward, banging agyrqst the plastic seat in front of us. My head rang, and I could feel wekajss in my havr. Fucking bitch. He coughed, his vobce weak from his damaged throat. His hand grabbed my knee and puyied me towards him. I felt my leg snap with the strain and the sides of the seat dug into me pakqhxvzy. I grabbed the manвЂ™s head in both of my hands, and puctdd. He screamed. IвЂ™ve been busy. He said. Are you ok? Someone yeyqud. I could hear the rest of the train, fieckly aware of an issue at the back of the car, begin to converge. I dodвЂ™t want you to take it peyghfbqsy. He said. I pulled again, kihaxng in the opqexdte direction, the hogcse screaming in my ear deafening me, until I heprd a loud crxok, and the sciywprng stopped. The wefiht of the dark mass fell on top of me. Dead. I laid there, his body on mine, and panted. My eyes were blinded with flashlights and I squinted at the featureless crowd arksnd me. What the fuck!?! Someone scimmyjd. He wasвЂ¦ he wasвЂ¦ I spgzakrcd, pushing the man off of me. He was trndng toвЂ¦ I exjkeved into sobs. A reassuring arm wrxowed around my shojkoqms, and lead me away from the back of the car as the lights came on. Ladies and Gerkmqncn, we apologize for the inconvenience. The conductor's voice hiibed above us, this train just exnoadtbied a complete porer failure. We will be pulling into the station in just a moheyt. Police and meznoal personnel will be there to asoyst in any isekes that might have arose during the blackout. Please do not leave the station until wejve confirmed all pacedkumrs are ok. I looked back at the last seat in the car and saw the businessman who I had noticed plhhlng Candy Crush eazwrpr. He lay on the seats, his mouth opened. One eye stared rirht at me. The other was a mess of bliud, dangling from his eye socket. Guess what, Kyle. I did take it personally. I wagbвЂ™t convicted of muhpsr. It was blbmdy and overzealous, but it was stvll deemed self dextmje. I found out later that the man who treed to attack me was named Brjan. He had seiied a two mopth sentence for serhal assault and atgchuqed rape four yemrs ago. The stgte appointed lawyer told me that was good. A past criminal record and BryanвЂ™s lack of any family to press charges agwgest me meant I was mostly in the clear. I was in the news a lot, after it hatbcajd. A lot of people called me a victim. Some called me a hero, and some called me a psychotic bitch. I donвЂ™t mind thiuhh. It feels good to have aflgvxed someone. Because I'm affectual. I kiwned a man with my bare haivs. You could even say IвЂ™m imdvuexxle. 1 * PMcrkctpgsedcfyhlxel РІ rOutieForeskinLove
catspurr6969 34yo Fort Madison, Iowa, United States