I've never owned a gun, but I used to airsoft many years ago. I've been thinking of getting my first real gun: a 1911 chambered in .22 or 9mm. I dug out my old airsoft pistol to compare size and weight and left it on the kitchen counter like ya do.

The misses comes over and says (see title) like three or four times. So I say, "I don't know, is it?" She picks it up and looks at it and sets it down before going outside with the dogs. I can only think of two conclusions. Either she doesn't support the second amendment, in which case too fucking bad, maybe if you stuck around your opinion would matter... or... she thinks I'm fragile enough to attempt sewerslide in which case she doesn't get to fucking pretend to care about my life after destroying the last seven years and our potential future. No, I'm broken but I'm not without meaning in life. But even if I were at that point, it would be her consequence. I don't think they understand the mental trauma of it all.

I know everyone says don't be around her, but... I can't make myself do anything these days, and I think my passive-aggressive behavior is a cry for engagement. Like maybe if I push her buttons, she will push back enough to shift the tides, and I am entitled to be angry. When she walks out the door, I feel lost. I've been abandoned on a foreign world whose resources and threats I can't even comprehend... and so I stand here and I wait and I hope. I tell myself, "I should do XY and Z"... but I don't move, like a petrified deer. I am living in my nightmare.