and i hate that,
that on my birthday,
the only thing i can think about is her,
and how much fun she would have had with us,
and i see all these things that remind me of her,
or that i think she would like,
or i do something that i know she would enjoy,
and i almost call her and ask her to join me,
we have been planing on going to the beach together for 2 years,
she threw me a surprise party last year,
she was not there this year,
and i miss her,
and i hear song after song on the radio,
and i think of the time we sang in her car,
windows down,
completely happy,
and i pass by the coffee shop where we talked for hours,
and my heart suddenly weighs 1,000,000 pounds,
and i see a mutual friend of ours,
and they ask me how she is doing,
and i say i haven't talked to her in a while.. leave it at that,
2 years ago she housed me when i was homeless,
last year we spent countless hours on her porch laughing and singing,
this year i witnessed her make a decision that would change her life forever,
and i hope it doesn't kill her,
and my fucking phone is filled with pictures of us,
literally 100's,
but they are all i have to look at right now,
i see her parents all the time,
we exchange heavy hearted looks,
eyes watering and holding back tears,
but we don't talk about it,
small talk has never been so painful,
2 years ago i sat at her work eating locopop's every day,
last year i betrayed her trust,
this year i drove her home because she was too drunk to drive,
and i realized what was happening..
(to be continued)
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
i get so tired
of not being able to sleep,
quite literally.
it starts when it gets late, usually around 12,
which sucks because i can never really fall asleep before 12 no matter how early i have to wake up the next morning,
and it begins,
i am in 6th grade babysitting a mentally restarted 18 year old boy,
and my mother is traveling,
she leaves for days at a time and i am left to fend for myself for the week,
and i am doing his mother a favor by taking him off her hands,
because god knows it is a full time job to be a waitress and a junkie,
it is,
i understood,
and all of the sudden it flashes,
to him choking me,
dragging me across the room by my hair,
beating me, i am sure he is going to kill me this time,
but no,
instead he rips off my clothes, and he has his way with me,
and i did die that day,
at least part of me,
and all of the sudden it flashes,
to my step father whispering in my ear,
you look just like your mother,
and she is traveling again,
and all of his children moved out, they got away,
and i smell the boose on his breath, and i know what comes next,
take a wild guess,
and all of the sudden it flashes,
to me being in my first foster home,
i locked myself in the bathroom to keep them out,
me and my kitten slept in that bathtub together every night for 9 months,
and im scared,
and all of the sudden i am driving a car,
speeding through back roads trying to get back to the house before 3am,
and some homeless man is walking in the street,
and all of the sudden i am flying through the air,
and a car windshield breaks my fall,
slicing open my face and head in various places, and it doesn't hurt,
but i feel the glass in my skull,
and i cant see anything out of my right eye,
and my face is covered in something,
its warm, wet, and too thick to be anything seeping through my pours,
and all of the sudden...
...
..
whatever,
what i see doesn't much matter in retrospect.
quite literally.
it starts when it gets late, usually around 12,
which sucks because i can never really fall asleep before 12 no matter how early i have to wake up the next morning,
and it begins,
i am in 6th grade babysitting a mentally restarted 18 year old boy,
and my mother is traveling,
she leaves for days at a time and i am left to fend for myself for the week,
and i am doing his mother a favor by taking him off her hands,
because god knows it is a full time job to be a waitress and a junkie,
it is,
i understood,
and all of the sudden it flashes,
to him choking me,
dragging me across the room by my hair,
beating me, i am sure he is going to kill me this time,
but no,
instead he rips off my clothes, and he has his way with me,
and i did die that day,
at least part of me,
and all of the sudden it flashes,
to my step father whispering in my ear,
you look just like your mother,
and she is traveling again,
and all of his children moved out, they got away,
and i smell the boose on his breath, and i know what comes next,
take a wild guess,
and all of the sudden it flashes,
to me being in my first foster home,
i locked myself in the bathroom to keep them out,
me and my kitten slept in that bathtub together every night for 9 months,
and im scared,
and all of the sudden i am driving a car,
speeding through back roads trying to get back to the house before 3am,
and some homeless man is walking in the street,
and all of the sudden i am flying through the air,
and a car windshield breaks my fall,
slicing open my face and head in various places, and it doesn't hurt,
but i feel the glass in my skull,
and i cant see anything out of my right eye,
and my face is covered in something,
its warm, wet, and too thick to be anything seeping through my pours,
and all of the sudden...
...
..
whatever,
what i see doesn't much matter in retrospect.
Monday, April 5, 2010
you say
we need to talk,
i feel how much sexual tension is going back and forth between us,
i just had to talk to you about it before you spent the night again, because if we didnt talk about it i feel like something would happen,
i know i have been sending you those signals,
i have feelings for you,
thats why i couldnt dance with you at the club the other night, i knew something would happen,
darling, what you dont realize is that i have had it bad for you for almost 2 years,
what you dont know is how hard that has been to hide from you,
never in my wildest dreams did i think you would feel the same way,
i wish i could help who i am attracted to as well,
then,
we are interrupted by one of your ex-girlfriend waking up and coming outside,
then the neighbor wants to chat at 12:30 in the morning,
and were alone again sitting on your bed,
you say
this is so fucked up,
this is hard,
i dont know what im thinking,
i dont know why my mind is going there,
i see you different,
i feel like there is a weird power dynamic between us,
this is fucked up, this is fucking hard, welcome to my world,
i feel like we have been equal for quite a while now,
but i know you havent seen it that way, which has been hard for me,
thats what you meant when you said that,
did that,
wanted me to hold you those nights,
im not stupid, i could tell there has been something there the past few times we have seen each other,
we play mixed cd after mixed cd until it is 6:30 in the morning,
the sexual tension alone keeping us awake all night,
fighting every instinct we have, so we didnt go there that night,
we decided to not do anything, think about it,
talk to a few people,
because this situation really is that fucked up,
we drive each other crazy all night,
touchier ourselves all fucking night,
no physical contact necessary,
we can barley make and hold contact,
but we both love this game,
push ourselves to the limit, pushing boundaries till we dont know if e can take it any longer,
you just want to fuck,
you want to be lovers and maintain our friendship,
i would like that,
but what i really want is your heart,
i love you,
and i want to be with you in a different way,
i have considered saying that i dont want to,
in hopes that sometime in the future, this will come up again,
and you will be ready for a more committed relationship,
and then i think about how i dont want to let the only chance of being with you as more than a friend slip through my fingers,
fuck.
thats all it would be to you.
meanwhile,
i am heart broken,
confused,
angry,
etc..
i hate how complex the human heart is,
how complicated emotions make life,
how much feeling hurts,
in a way,
it would be easier if we had gone on,
without you ever seeing me,
without you ever realizing you were attracted to me,
thus is life,
we will see what happens, love.
i feel how much sexual tension is going back and forth between us,
i just had to talk to you about it before you spent the night again, because if we didnt talk about it i feel like something would happen,
i know i have been sending you those signals,
i have feelings for you,
thats why i couldnt dance with you at the club the other night, i knew something would happen,
darling, what you dont realize is that i have had it bad for you for almost 2 years,
what you dont know is how hard that has been to hide from you,
never in my wildest dreams did i think you would feel the same way,
i wish i could help who i am attracted to as well,
then,
we are interrupted by one of your ex-girlfriend waking up and coming outside,
then the neighbor wants to chat at 12:30 in the morning,
and were alone again sitting on your bed,
you say
this is so fucked up,
this is hard,
i dont know what im thinking,
i dont know why my mind is going there,
i see you different,
i feel like there is a weird power dynamic between us,
this is fucked up, this is fucking hard, welcome to my world,
i feel like we have been equal for quite a while now,
but i know you havent seen it that way, which has been hard for me,
thats what you meant when you said that,
did that,
wanted me to hold you those nights,
im not stupid, i could tell there has been something there the past few times we have seen each other,
we play mixed cd after mixed cd until it is 6:30 in the morning,
the sexual tension alone keeping us awake all night,
fighting every instinct we have, so we didnt go there that night,
we decided to not do anything, think about it,
talk to a few people,
because this situation really is that fucked up,
we drive each other crazy all night,
touchier ourselves all fucking night,
no physical contact necessary,
we can barley make and hold contact,
but we both love this game,
push ourselves to the limit, pushing boundaries till we dont know if e can take it any longer,
you just want to fuck,
you want to be lovers and maintain our friendship,
i would like that,
but what i really want is your heart,
i love you,
and i want to be with you in a different way,
i have considered saying that i dont want to,
in hopes that sometime in the future, this will come up again,
and you will be ready for a more committed relationship,
and then i think about how i dont want to let the only chance of being with you as more than a friend slip through my fingers,
fuck.
thats all it would be to you.
meanwhile,
i am heart broken,
confused,
angry,
etc..
i hate how complex the human heart is,
how complicated emotions make life,
how much feeling hurts,
in a way,
it would be easier if we had gone on,
without you ever seeing me,
without you ever realizing you were attracted to me,
thus is life,
we will see what happens, love.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
i chose an old picture
because i didnt want anyone else but her to know what i look like now, although it isnt to terribly different.
and i havent written in a long time because i have been busy, working, school, being sick and not seeming to get any better, getting maybe 4 hours of sleep a night on a good day.
but i am okay with that, its how it has to be right now, its not permanent.
but thats not the only reason, i would by lying if i said it was.
i havent been on in a long time because i didnt want you to know how bad i was doing.
it wouldnt matter if i wrote about what is going on, or if i wrote about sunshine and rainbows, you would know.
you would figure it out.
it was about 5 weeks ago that i stood on the train tracks for an hour and a half waiting for a train to come, and when i saw it, i didnt feel relieved, i felt even more empty.
i thought i would be relieved, but instead i got angry with myself.
and it was about 3 weeks ago that i got mugged at gunpoint in some shithole town on my way to georgia, and i gave the man all the money that i had saved, my security blanket.
and i dont know why i took all of my money in cash with me, i guess i thought in the back of my head that maybe i wouldnt come back, maybe i would just pick up and leave, but regardless, some black man in the town the greyhound stopped in has my savings,
and it was about a 2 1/2 weeks ago that i was so sick, i couldnt move, and my temperature was almost high enough for my body to start shutting down, and i thought i was going to die.
and around that time i found out that i may not pass any of my classes this semester because of absences,
which was about the time that my uncle died and my family wanted me to fly to ohio for his funeral, but i hate funerals, and i didnt want to see my father.
and shortly after that i found out that both my grandfather and my father were both very ill, and my father seems to have been drawing out the dieing process for quite some time now.
i should mention, that i am horrible with time lines, and the time frame i just gave could be off by days, or a week.
the past month and a half have felt like a blur, like the days were not separated, just a solid chunk of time.
and maybe a week ago the only man that i ever truly loved was engaged, and just had a baby girl with a different woman.
and i found out that he was in afghanistan, killing people, which doesnt surprise me because he has been killing people since before we knew each other, since before he joined the army or the marines or what ever organization gives a gun to a man with ptsd and sever mental health problems.
and my heart broke a little more with every email he sent me, telling me how many people he has killed, and the numbers keep going up,
and up
and up
and i see more and more what a monster he has become, how is is not the same person he once was.
but i, of all people should know how much taking someone elses life can fuck you up,
with each life, you get more,
and more
and more fucked up.
and death starts to not bother you, and it starts to become more
and more normal
it starts not to hurt as bad, but every once and a while, you loose someone, and it feels like the first time, the first funeral, the first good by you ever had to say to someone after they were already cold and nailed up in a box to rot, or ashes that, no matter how you look at them, dont seem like they could have once been that person that you knew and loved.
but i am in surprisingly good spirits,
and i am happy to be alive and listening to the rhythm of the key board.
and i havent written in a long time because i have been busy, working, school, being sick and not seeming to get any better, getting maybe 4 hours of sleep a night on a good day.
but i am okay with that, its how it has to be right now, its not permanent.
but thats not the only reason, i would by lying if i said it was.
i havent been on in a long time because i didnt want you to know how bad i was doing.
it wouldnt matter if i wrote about what is going on, or if i wrote about sunshine and rainbows, you would know.
you would figure it out.
it was about 5 weeks ago that i stood on the train tracks for an hour and a half waiting for a train to come, and when i saw it, i didnt feel relieved, i felt even more empty.
i thought i would be relieved, but instead i got angry with myself.
and it was about 3 weeks ago that i got mugged at gunpoint in some shithole town on my way to georgia, and i gave the man all the money that i had saved, my security blanket.
and i dont know why i took all of my money in cash with me, i guess i thought in the back of my head that maybe i wouldnt come back, maybe i would just pick up and leave, but regardless, some black man in the town the greyhound stopped in has my savings,
and it was about a 2 1/2 weeks ago that i was so sick, i couldnt move, and my temperature was almost high enough for my body to start shutting down, and i thought i was going to die.
and around that time i found out that i may not pass any of my classes this semester because of absences,
which was about the time that my uncle died and my family wanted me to fly to ohio for his funeral, but i hate funerals, and i didnt want to see my father.
and shortly after that i found out that both my grandfather and my father were both very ill, and my father seems to have been drawing out the dieing process for quite some time now.
i should mention, that i am horrible with time lines, and the time frame i just gave could be off by days, or a week.
the past month and a half have felt like a blur, like the days were not separated, just a solid chunk of time.
and maybe a week ago the only man that i ever truly loved was engaged, and just had a baby girl with a different woman.
and i found out that he was in afghanistan, killing people, which doesnt surprise me because he has been killing people since before we knew each other, since before he joined the army or the marines or what ever organization gives a gun to a man with ptsd and sever mental health problems.
and my heart broke a little more with every email he sent me, telling me how many people he has killed, and the numbers keep going up,
and up
and up
and i see more and more what a monster he has become, how is is not the same person he once was.
but i, of all people should know how much taking someone elses life can fuck you up,
with each life, you get more,
and more
and more fucked up.
and death starts to not bother you, and it starts to become more
and more normal
it starts not to hurt as bad, but every once and a while, you loose someone, and it feels like the first time, the first funeral, the first good by you ever had to say to someone after they were already cold and nailed up in a box to rot, or ashes that, no matter how you look at them, dont seem like they could have once been that person that you knew and loved.
but i am in surprisingly good spirits,
and i am happy to be alive and listening to the rhythm of the key board.
Monday, February 8, 2010
forgive me
sometimes i disappear. whether it is because i have decided to leave everything i need to start all over again, and again, or that i have fallen especially ill again, and maybe it is this time that i will not have to deal with the process of getting well. or that i got scared, because i let you too close to me, and everyone that ends up getting too close to me leaves. OD, car accident, wrong place at the wrong time while someone was trying to rob the gas station that you stopped at after you left my house, sickness, a rope hanging from your ceiling, or a knife that you turned on yourself, it always happens one way or the other, and your gone again.
maybe i am trying to save you, because i care. because for some reason events lead up to the deaths of my closest friends, and i am left, alone again. its hard to care so much about someone.. without getting hurt. so when i disappear, please believe me when i say it is not because i no longer care about you, it is because i DO care about you, more than most people.
its because when i fall ill for the next time, i don't want to break your heart if i don't get well again. it is because i want to spare you. i cant let you go through the pain of watching me wither away in a hospital bed. it wouldn't be fair.
it also wouldn't be fair to not tell you that i am sick. you will not catch it from sleeping in the same bed as me, drinking after me, sharing needles or having sex with me. you will not contract this because you hug, kiss, or touch any of the various wounds that i may have. i know this because no one else has, i am not contagious.
at the same time, i couldn't tell you exactly what is wrong with me, and neither could the hospital, or any of the specialists i have been to. they run test after test and then pass me along to the next specialist because they don't know what is wrong with me, so it has to be something other than what they specialize in, god forbid, being the fantastic doctors that they are, that they cant figure out what it is that may be killing me. i have heard it all, you have 3, 6, 9 months left. you have anywhere from 1 to 30 years left to live, your going to be just fine, this wont kill you, but were going to send you X, Y, and Z to figure out why this is happening.
i am currently in debt thousands of dollars, and always seem to be running out of time. thus is life.
so, if i disappear it could be for any reason, but it doesn't mean that i don't love you, as a friend. it doesn't mean that i don't care about you, more than most. it means that something is wrong, with me.
maybe i am trying to save you, because i care. because for some reason events lead up to the deaths of my closest friends, and i am left, alone again. its hard to care so much about someone.. without getting hurt. so when i disappear, please believe me when i say it is not because i no longer care about you, it is because i DO care about you, more than most people.
its because when i fall ill for the next time, i don't want to break your heart if i don't get well again. it is because i want to spare you. i cant let you go through the pain of watching me wither away in a hospital bed. it wouldn't be fair.
it also wouldn't be fair to not tell you that i am sick. you will not catch it from sleeping in the same bed as me, drinking after me, sharing needles or having sex with me. you will not contract this because you hug, kiss, or touch any of the various wounds that i may have. i know this because no one else has, i am not contagious.
at the same time, i couldn't tell you exactly what is wrong with me, and neither could the hospital, or any of the specialists i have been to. they run test after test and then pass me along to the next specialist because they don't know what is wrong with me, so it has to be something other than what they specialize in, god forbid, being the fantastic doctors that they are, that they cant figure out what it is that may be killing me. i have heard it all, you have 3, 6, 9 months left. you have anywhere from 1 to 30 years left to live, your going to be just fine, this wont kill you, but were going to send you X, Y, and Z to figure out why this is happening.
i am currently in debt thousands of dollars, and always seem to be running out of time. thus is life.
so, if i disappear it could be for any reason, but it doesn't mean that i don't love you, as a friend. it doesn't mean that i don't care about you, more than most. it means that something is wrong, with me.
Monday, January 18, 2010
you are in denial
about what your mother is doing. you cant seem to get past needing her so your business doesn't go under, or needing her because you are going through a divorce again because you put yourself in the same situation that you do every time you meet mr. right.
and you are counting on me, and you are counting on her to, once again, clean up the mess you have made of your life. and i am disappointed, not for you but in you.
little do you know that she is dieing, killing her in one of the most slow, painful ways imaginable. she is taking so much pain medicine that if someone were to take as much as she takes on any given day, it would kill them. but she has developed a tolerance for it. so now, the only effect of her taking it is the feeling of euphoria that she gets, i know that feeling all too well, euphoria that is.
but what you don't see is that because of the size dose she is taking, it is slowing down the circulation, slowing down the circulation in her heart, and lungs. making it hard to breath, she is drowning, but you think it is okay because it isn't alcohol that she is drowning in this time, "it is something that she needs to deal with the pain."
but like i have said, it is not the fact that she takes the medicine, it is the way she takes it. it is that she feels like she is crawling out of her skin when she doesn't take it. it is the fact that when her doctor goes out of town and she runs out of her prescription she will fake a heart attack you she can get the morphine through an iv, my personal favorite.. iv drug use.
the personal bond between someone, and a needle, the bond between ME and MY needle. the true love of my life, the thing that will hold me when nothing else will, my support system, my family, my best friend and my lover.
the cooking, processing, preparing, serving.. the fact that i allow it to enter my body, let the point slide in, release the purpose of my existence, the prick that only lasts for a second, the burn of something foreign in my veins that only happens when i haven't been with my lover in a while, and the pulling out and holding my finger over the spot so i don't get little blood droplets on my shirt. the track marks that i have to cover, so my girlfriend will not know that i am having an affair, because i will never love her as much as i love my needles, and that would be devastating.
oh yes, i understand about being addicted to drugs, to sex, to relationships, to slicing into my own flesh, to eating, to not eating and purging when i do.. i get it.
and i know that if we live by statistics, that i will die with my lover. and i know that even if i do manage to separate from it, that i will still be a statistic, and there are days that my lover tells me, "you are going to die a statistic either way, why would you force yourself to be without me, when we can be together, after all.. if your going to die someday, you may as well be happy when you do it."
more often than not over the past year i have not given in.
but i want to save her from killing herself, partly because she is family, partly because i feel obligated to, and partly because i want her to suffer through losing the one thing left in this world that makes her feel whole. her lover.
because i really hate her, and what some may see as an act of love is actually me attempting to destroy her in a different way. because i know what it feels like to detox, to be in a ball in the bathroom floor, shaking, sweating, and throwing up. being so sick that you cant move. and i can only hope that she will be in her bathroom floor, leaning over her toilet, so sick she wished she was dead, and i can only hope that she will glance over and see the two loaded shot guns she has in her bathtub for protection against the outside world. i don't necessarily hope that she blows her brains out all over the wall leaving a mess for someone else to clean up. i hope she has a flash back of her mother being shot in the neck, becoming a paraplegic, leaving her to take care of her 5 other brothers and sisters.. i hope she feels something. weather it is the fear and or satisfaction of pulling the trigger, or some kind of hope, i fucking hope she changes what she has become.
and you are counting on me, and you are counting on her to, once again, clean up the mess you have made of your life. and i am disappointed, not for you but in you.
little do you know that she is dieing, killing her in one of the most slow, painful ways imaginable. she is taking so much pain medicine that if someone were to take as much as she takes on any given day, it would kill them. but she has developed a tolerance for it. so now, the only effect of her taking it is the feeling of euphoria that she gets, i know that feeling all too well, euphoria that is.
but what you don't see is that because of the size dose she is taking, it is slowing down the circulation, slowing down the circulation in her heart, and lungs. making it hard to breath, she is drowning, but you think it is okay because it isn't alcohol that she is drowning in this time, "it is something that she needs to deal with the pain."
but like i have said, it is not the fact that she takes the medicine, it is the way she takes it. it is that she feels like she is crawling out of her skin when she doesn't take it. it is the fact that when her doctor goes out of town and she runs out of her prescription she will fake a heart attack you she can get the morphine through an iv, my personal favorite.. iv drug use.
the personal bond between someone, and a needle, the bond between ME and MY needle. the true love of my life, the thing that will hold me when nothing else will, my support system, my family, my best friend and my lover.
the cooking, processing, preparing, serving.. the fact that i allow it to enter my body, let the point slide in, release the purpose of my existence, the prick that only lasts for a second, the burn of something foreign in my veins that only happens when i haven't been with my lover in a while, and the pulling out and holding my finger over the spot so i don't get little blood droplets on my shirt. the track marks that i have to cover, so my girlfriend will not know that i am having an affair, because i will never love her as much as i love my needles, and that would be devastating.
oh yes, i understand about being addicted to drugs, to sex, to relationships, to slicing into my own flesh, to eating, to not eating and purging when i do.. i get it.
and i know that if we live by statistics, that i will die with my lover. and i know that even if i do manage to separate from it, that i will still be a statistic, and there are days that my lover tells me, "you are going to die a statistic either way, why would you force yourself to be without me, when we can be together, after all.. if your going to die someday, you may as well be happy when you do it."
more often than not over the past year i have not given in.
but i want to save her from killing herself, partly because she is family, partly because i feel obligated to, and partly because i want her to suffer through losing the one thing left in this world that makes her feel whole. her lover.
because i really hate her, and what some may see as an act of love is actually me attempting to destroy her in a different way. because i know what it feels like to detox, to be in a ball in the bathroom floor, shaking, sweating, and throwing up. being so sick that you cant move. and i can only hope that she will be in her bathroom floor, leaning over her toilet, so sick she wished she was dead, and i can only hope that she will glance over and see the two loaded shot guns she has in her bathtub for protection against the outside world. i don't necessarily hope that she blows her brains out all over the wall leaving a mess for someone else to clean up. i hope she has a flash back of her mother being shot in the neck, becoming a paraplegic, leaving her to take care of her 5 other brothers and sisters.. i hope she feels something. weather it is the fear and or satisfaction of pulling the trigger, or some kind of hope, i fucking hope she changes what she has become.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
here i am again
im laying in his bed and hes stroking my hair..
"do you want to make love to me tonight?"
he asks me that question every time i spend the night at his house. i always think the same thing, your 28, im 19. your a man, i prefer women. no, i really have no desire to have sex with you, you are one of my best friends. i am not interested in you at all.
so naturally, i say "yes."
because little does he know, i can not say no to him. not because i love him, not because i am mentally or physically attracted to him, but because saying no to any man means getting the shit beat out of you until you couldn't stop him even if you tried.
my father taught me that, my mothers second husband only confirmed. my father taught me what it feels like to be grown up. he taught me what it feels like to have a grown mans penis in a 4 year old girls body. he taught me that love really has no boundaries, that because he made me, he could do with me what he wanted. he taught me that sex was the way to show someone respect..
in all honestly, the only reason i wrote this is because i needed to say it, needed to let it out instead of hiding it, covering it with layers of scars and track marks. i needed to be able say out loud, or in this case write that it still hurts. i still feel it when i go to sleep at night. i still stare at a man discussed when i see him with a child, thinking of all the horrible things that may or may not be going on.. ive been there.
i hate hate most people and their responses to the real world. there is no need to pity me. if i hear another fucking, "oh, poor kid" i might just explode. that is why i dont tell people, not even most of my friends about my past, because the world looks at you differently when they realize that youve been through something. trust me, it is not the worst of it.
most peoples response would be to not talk to me anymore, because it was too much for them to handle. mother fucker, dont tell me about too much to handle, i lived it. if you cant even hear about something like that without having a mental break down i feel sorry for you. shit happens.
and the truth is, that even as fucked up as it was, my father taught me something. he taught me not to put all my trust in someone because people are human, and they make mistakes, and theyre fucked up.. the only person that i have to trust is myself, and if i cant trust myself then im fucked..
"do you want to make love to me tonight?"
he asks me that question every time i spend the night at his house. i always think the same thing, your 28, im 19. your a man, i prefer women. no, i really have no desire to have sex with you, you are one of my best friends. i am not interested in you at all.
so naturally, i say "yes."
because little does he know, i can not say no to him. not because i love him, not because i am mentally or physically attracted to him, but because saying no to any man means getting the shit beat out of you until you couldn't stop him even if you tried.
my father taught me that, my mothers second husband only confirmed. my father taught me what it feels like to be grown up. he taught me what it feels like to have a grown mans penis in a 4 year old girls body. he taught me that love really has no boundaries, that because he made me, he could do with me what he wanted. he taught me that sex was the way to show someone respect..
in all honestly, the only reason i wrote this is because i needed to say it, needed to let it out instead of hiding it, covering it with layers of scars and track marks. i needed to be able say out loud, or in this case write that it still hurts. i still feel it when i go to sleep at night. i still stare at a man discussed when i see him with a child, thinking of all the horrible things that may or may not be going on.. ive been there.
i hate hate most people and their responses to the real world. there is no need to pity me. if i hear another fucking, "oh, poor kid" i might just explode. that is why i dont tell people, not even most of my friends about my past, because the world looks at you differently when they realize that youve been through something. trust me, it is not the worst of it.
most peoples response would be to not talk to me anymore, because it was too much for them to handle. mother fucker, dont tell me about too much to handle, i lived it. if you cant even hear about something like that without having a mental break down i feel sorry for you. shit happens.
and the truth is, that even as fucked up as it was, my father taught me something. he taught me not to put all my trust in someone because people are human, and they make mistakes, and theyre fucked up.. the only person that i have to trust is myself, and if i cant trust myself then im fucked..
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