My girlfriend keeps forgetting she broke up with me

Dude, honestly, I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Things are just so stupid right now. Well, mostly stupid. I don’t know whether to be annoyed or just flat-out terrified.

Me and my girlfriend have been together for 3 years now. I don’t wanna go through the whole spiel of how “we used to be so happy,” or how “I don’t know how it ended up this bad,” but I will say, we were deeply in love.

I’d have done anything for her, and I know she’d have done the same for me. I guess people just drift apart, though. I never expected it’d happen to us, but what’re you gonna do?

We’d been bickering for a few months before things finally snapped. Bickering turned to arguing. Arguing turned to full-blown fighting.

Everything culminated in a massive screaming match.

She threw some low jabs about my height. I threw some low jabs about her weight. I know how disrespectful it is, but we were both just so lost in the moment, I guess.

Needless to say, that’s when we knew that we were too far gone. We were never the type of couple that insulted one another, even in anger. For it to be happening now was like confirmation that we were past our expiration date.

Even still, hearing the words come out of her mouth shattered my heart into a million pieces. Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

I’m not too masculine to admit that I cried for hours. I had to force myself not to text. Force myself not to call. I just let myself feel the weight of the newfound silence.

It felt like the beginning of an incredibly dark period in my life. I wasn’t sure I was ready to brace it. I didn’t know if I was ready to be alone.

I spent about two months wallowing before deciding that it was time to cowboy up. I’d gained 15 pounds in those two months. I had turned ghostly white, and for a while I thought that I didn’t even know how to socialize anymore.

One day, I just… woke up. I was ready to start life again. It took a few months, but things started getting better. I was eating cleaner, going to the gym 4 times a week, and had started going out with friends again.

I’d met a few women along the way, but I wasn’t ready to get back into a relationship just yet. Unfortunately, my ex-girlfriend ensured I had no other choice.

She just started showing up at my house at odd hours of the night. Sometimes she wouldn’t even knock. She’d just stand there, right outside the door for hours on end.

When she did knock, though, it was like she thought we were still together. I’d answer the door and get hit with the same remarks.

“Why haven’t you texted?”

“I miss you, baby. Let’s have a sleepover.”

“It’s like you don’t even love me anymore.”

Obviously, this confused the hell out of me. I’d explain that we were broken up. And now that I had some time to process, I realized that we weren’t meant to be together anyway.

She’d always get so angry. Never enough for me to worry about my own safety, but enough that I could tell she was boiling on the inside.

I’d send her away, and she’d stomp off like a pouting toddler. I wasn’t even upset that she was showing up. I was more upset that she had broken up with me and she didn’t even acknowledge it. She just expected me to let her waltz right back into my life all willy-nilly.

It felt disrespectful.

A few nights ago, she took it a step too far, though.

I came downstairs to make some breakfast and found her passed out on my couch. No signs of forced entry. No broken door, broken windows, nothing. She was just… there.

Then she had the audacity to stretch and yawn with a smile like this wasn’t the most outrageous shit she had ever done.

When I told her she had to leave, she threw the biggest fit I had ever seen. Her face looked like boiling lava. She turned into a hurricane right there in the living room.

Cursing, spitting, knocking furniture over. I told her if she didn’t leave, I was calling the police, and off she went, stomping through the door before slamming it closed behind her.

I assumed that I had just left the door unlocked, and after that night, I triple-checked every single night that it was bolted shut. She didn’t come back for a while.

A day went by. Then two. Then three. I thought I was home free.

I went through my whole routine of checking the locks on the doors and windows all throughout the house. You can never be too cautious. I even locked my own bedroom door just because the whole experience had made me paranoid.

And I guess that’s finally paid off.

Because as I lay here in bed typing this… I can hear her coming up the stairs.

She keeps singing my name like it’s some kind of nursery rhyme.

“Donavinnnn… oh Donavinnnn… where areeee youuuu?”

It was soft at first, but with each step it’s gotten more and more demonic. More angry and unhinged.

The footsteps have stopped right in front of my bedroom door, and the sound of the door handle bouncing up and down is paralyzing me.

“Open the dooooorrr, sweetieeeee….”

“I missss youuuu, my sweet boyyyy…”

“Please let me come in.”

“I can smell you, you dirty, dirty boy.”

The door handle looks like it’s gonna give at any minute. The door keeps warping and flexing. Her voice is getting angrier and angrier.

I hope that people see this.

That way, if I die tonight…

You all know who to blame.