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I told myself that when I had X number of followers, I would start blogging about my suicide. Well, I have 142% of that goal and I still don’t want to do it. My beloved David is still a physical threat to me. His Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder has convinced him that I was trying to kill him in Toronto. It’s not rational. It’s not reasonable. It’s crazy. But that’s life with PTSD. At some point, I crossed some imaginary personal boundary in his distorted mind and his illnesses convinced him that I was trying to kill him. Not spiritually or anything