Escaping This Abusive Relationship

F**k you, Mariners.

I love you so much and all you do is hurt me. I know it’s wrong of me to stay here, to stay with you, but I can’t help it.

You treat me like Megan Fox in an Eminem cut, burning down my house with me still in it. I still want to trust you, to believe in you, to know that you’ll be there for me. But every time I open up to you I get hurt. I’m torn inside.

People tell me we shouldn’t be together. That I can do better. That I should be with another team. I want to leave you, but I can’t. We’ve been together forever. Don’t you understand that?

I’ve been wearing your logo since I was a baby, and all you do is take me for granted. We’re soulmates, you and I, destined to spend eternity with one another. My heart bleeds teal, but you like to watch me bleed. I can’t keep going on like this.

You toy with my emotions. You built me up when we were young, promised me a future you could never fulfill, then shattered my heart as we got older.

You brought me my happiest times and my saddest. Forced me to cheer when I wanted to cry, evoked my tears when I thought I was smiling. It’s a roller coaster, this ride we’ve been on. The highs and the lows, the joy and the pain, the anger and the jubilation.

You ruined prospects and mortgaged the future.

You destroyed careers and never gave others a chance.

You had a Hall of Fame lineup and let it slip away.

You traded my hero, then brought him back without his cape.

You tried to buy my love with bobblehead dolls and garlic fries; all I wanted was wins and memories.

You lied to me.

You beat me up.

You tried to break me.

You tricked me.

You never had a plan. You just wanted my love, my devotion. You wanted me for money, for support. You didn’t want me for me. You didn’t care for me for me. You asked me to give you everything. But you gave me nothing in return.

I want to escape you. I try every day. But even at my strongest, I can’t leave. I can’t run. I can’t hide. I can’t flee.

You blame your manager, you fire him, you stab him in the back, then you kick him to the curb. On the same day I hear this news, I buy tickets to a game. I see a DVD — the DVD, the one DVD I’ve been wanting for years,  the recap of the 1995 season — and I buy that, too. I feel guilty. I feel upset. I feel embarrassed. Scorned. Humiliated. Deceived. I’ve done everything you wanted me to do, and you mock me, you laugh. You know you’ve got me in your pocket. All you do is take advantage.

Through it all, I can’t quit you. Like a first love, the one you never get over, the one you still smile at, the one you see yourself with even when the future you envision is in the past. You’re my sweetheart, and even though you treat me bad, I can’t disappear. You’ll find me. You’ll hunt me. You’ll track me down. You’ll hurt me. You might kill me. You need me. And I still love you.

I want to hurt you the way you hurt me, but I don’t know how.

I want you to love me the way I love you, but you don’t know how.

We shouldn’t be together. I deserve better. You deserve worse. I’ll never find better. You’ll never find better. We’ll fight each other until we ruin each other.

Until it’s over I might hurt. But where would I be without you? Where would you be without me? We’ve had 25 years together. From an innocent beginning to a volatile end. I can’t let this last. But I can’t break this off.

6 thoughts on “Escaping This Abusive Relationship”

  1. We lose a manager who never got a real chance (thanks management!), turn a triple play, watch Oakland get “Fisted” and win in the same day. Bittersweet doesn’t even begin to describe the emotions.

  2. Wait! They came out with THE dvd? When? Team Shop? I stopped going in there because it upset me to see people buying M’s gear while we were getting killed on the field. Looks I’ll need to brave the elements tonight and make my way in.

  3. I wrote something similar to this on my myspace blog during the Huskies’ 0-12 year. I call plagiarism. Just kidding, great read.

  4. I wanted everyone to believe I was cutting my wrists as I wrote this. I wasn’t. But I wanted it to feel that way. Channel the emotions of the abused.

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