Today, I find myself reflecting deeply on my current emotional state. I have a mix of thoughts and feelings swirling within me, and I’ve reached a point where I refuse to waste any more time on this situation. The reality is quite straightforward: if there had been any common sense applied, and if she had genuinely cared for me, she would have recognized the depth of my love for her. I truly cared about her and longed to be with her, but the unfortunate truth is that she did not feel the same way. While difficult to accept, I understand that she had the right to make her own choices, even if those choices led to her actions of dishonesty and deception.

At the core of it all, common sense dictates that if Heather Killebrew had truly loved or cared for me, she would have recognized my feelings for her. This situation also touches on the concept of emotional intelligence, which we often discussed. Interestingly, after my stroke, I find myself articulating my thoughts and feelings, albeit from a somewhat detached perspective. I struggle to recall everything, but I can see the words I’ve written and the notes I’ve taken, which reflect my genuine care for her and my desire to be close to her.

I often felt like I was pleading for her presence, unable to comprehend why she couldn’t see my devotion. I believed she cared for me, loved me, and wanted to be with me, but common sense ultimately reveals that this was not the case. She didn’t love me, didn’t care, and didn’t wish to be with me, which led to the unfortunate circumstances that resulted in my major stroke.

It may seem like I’m placing blame on her, but that’s not my intention. The stress and turmoil I experienced were unnecessary. Actions like posting my mugshot on her front door and withholding my belongings were not only absurd but also hurtful. Yet, I recognize that she made her own choices, and those choices had significant consequences for me, culminating in a lifelong struggle from a major stroke.

I chose to engage with her, and I’ve said all I need to say about it. We could endlessly debate her actions, but I believe it’s unproductive to dwell on the past. I’ve expressed my feelings enough, and I don’t feel the need to revisit them.

Now, I face the reality of having had a major stroke, and I am on a long journey to regain basic functions and a semblance of the life I once knew. Fear and anxiety loom over me as I worry about the possibility of another stroke or not fully recovering from this one. The internal battle I face is indescribable, and I find myself exhausted from trying to articulate it.