my healing journey

Archive for the ‘sexual abuse’ Category

Why me?

I want to stuff my face into a pillow and not wake up.

I want to jump in front of a train and end it all.

I want to stop eating so that my body breaks down and can’t function

I want to rot away in bed and hide from the world

I want my pain to end. But I don’t want to end.

I want to function but I don’t know how

I want to get a chainsaw and hack my abusers to pieces

I want to kick the shit out of their heads and stomp all over their bodies

I want to put several bullets in their skulls

I want them to feel an ounce of the torment that I feel

That I will feel for the rest of my life

I don’t know how to handle all these emotions

The suffocation

The never ending film of trauma playing in my head over and over

Day after day

Never ending

Why me?

Advertisements
Aside

My Confessions

I have a lot to write about. I sat down and I made a list of all the things which were bothering me when I was trying to study.

About how I always keep my mouth shut for the sake of sparing others but then these people never seem to be there for me.

about how I’m bitter and twisted due the fact my own mother couldn’t support me, yet I hid pills from her when she threatened to kill herself and I was the one who has to witness all the destruction in my family that my parents caused, and look after my siblings and protect them and when the time came when I was the one in need she fucked off.

How i spent so many years when i was younger trying to be other people. literally making notes and trying to become them because I wanted so badly to get away from myself, but i can’t do that, I can’t run away from myself because I’m always here. I can’t run away from my mind. You can’t outrun your shadow or your past. You can try to forget but it will always come back to haunt you.

I thought about my strange behaviour in relationships. How I WANT to become obsessed with people, and make them the centre of my life and focus entirely on them , and fix them. BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO FIX MYSELF. Where I get so involved that I just end up hurting myself because I attract people who want to leach off me.

How I’m scared of change, but I have to change because I have no choice. I can[‘t stay here in this spot, because I will literally become nothing and I won’t be alive, I’ll be a parasite sucking on the life and successes of others and tainting it with bitterness because I’m so miserable inside myself.

I listen to a lot of metal because they do the screaming that I can’t do myself. They scream and writhe for me.

I look in disgust at my own reasoning. the way I can sympathise with the guy who raped me and his friend who watched. Maybe they didn’t know they were doing anything wrong? So why did they put a blindfold on me and why did they jump up when someone opened the door? Why did they jump back when I shouted out and saw the blood on my underwear? Why were they so nice? Did they pre plan this? I came to them asking for help because I wanted to learn a different language, and they responded by taking my trust and twisting it up for their own sexual pleasure.

Why did my family prefer to ‘keep the peace’ instead of outing the guys for the rapists that they were. since when did your honour and standing in the community become more important than your blood relatives? I don’t have a family any more. I’ve apparently been disowned. they can all fuck themselves.

I can’t be friends with a guy or meet a guy without thinking that he wants to use me for sex and that I somehow owe him something. I used to act on this until about a year ago, when i realised that no, actually I don’t want to fuck every guy I know and that I don’t have to get sexual with someone because they have a penis. I don’t need to ‘beat them to it’ by providing it on a plate.

contempt

When people tell me that I’m ‘brave’ or thank me for telling them that I was raped, i honestly want to slap them.

there is nothing to be thankful about, i’m not giving you a cure or a pathway to neverending life.

I was told today by a girl, (who means well) that she read my blog and that it was ‘lovely’. at the risk of being a cunt, there is nothing lovely about contemplating suicide and writing about how grief is tearing you up from the inside.

 seriously?

are people fucking stupid?

nobody knows what to say and how to react. so just don’t say anything. just go for the classic response, the look of intense pity and failed attempts at comforting and not knowing the right way to look.

You can all fuck off.

Tag Cloud