So my boyfriend (did I mention I have a boyfriend?) was supposed to be one of the three people I know who have a decent family. But apparently people who have been decent for decades can just decide to be terrible after all.
Of course that’s really awful and I’m sad for him and glad he’s safe now and I should be supportive which is why I’m blogging about it instead of saying that to his face.
But in an extremely messed-up way I’m kinda jealous, and kinda using it as wish fulfillment. That he’s all hurt and angry about it, rather than used to it. That he immediately thought of to the police, rather than having long ago lost the expectation of help from authorities. That it was something clear-cut enough to go to the police in the first place, rather than “He called you names and that’s what you’re making such a fuss for?”. That he can get rid of or get away from nasty people, instead of depending on them in all the ways a child does.
I’m not jealous of people with decent families, anymore than I’m jealous of superheroes. It’s ability to fight back that I bitterly wish I’d had.
I know it’s not about me, okay? He’s not unsafe in his own home at me. So I write a whiny blog post and move the heck on.