I Am Still Right Here
No one else would have been able to understand. Darkness like thick afternoon fog encircling itself all around my mind, crouching and snarling at me. I had nothing to defend myself with, absolutely nothing. I didn't know of any happiness or confidence, so there were no weapons. I could never make it at home, no one acknowledged or appreciated my effort. I couldn't make it at school. I didn't realize that they were acknowledging and appreciating my effort more than anyone ever had. The teachers, of course. The kids were part of the fog that tried to strangle me and take me under, succeeding every once in a while. Everyone around me was so happy and filled with a light I wished with all of my might that I could have. I would have died for It, and tried to a couple of times. They didn't know what was happening inside and around me, and they didn't care. It was like a scene in a movie where the main character is standing still, when everything and everyone around them is moving by super fast like they're in fast forward. They all changed, but I stayed the same. I stayed grey, small, hideous, and alone.
Home was so much worse. It was like we all stood still, or everything just happened in slow motion. Slow, painful, and torturous. Her screams were slow and like a dagger carefully being inserted into my ear. The thoughts were constant and drawn out like her syllables when she had too much to drink. Everything lasted forever, even the pain. The memories weren't as bad as they would be later on. It was the present that killed me. The fact that I was nothing compared to them, that I had been forgotten, that I was a 'little bitch' and couldn't do anything right. I wasn't skinny or pretty enough, and I wasn't like everyone else. Apparently, that was a bad thing.
I can't live with myself anymore. The things I've done are too much for me to bare. Fuck keeping it a secret anymore. Secrets are too risky and sad to live with. I can't live with the fact that I was in a 'relationship' with a man 22 years older than myself. I can't live with the fact that I tore my family apart with my lies and my deeds. Mom and I got into so many fights over it, I even punched her once. So much screaming, aching, adrenaline, and black-outs. So much pain, resentment, and utter depression. My sister cried so much the night I had to leave. Mom told us to get the fuck out, all because of me and what I had done. I got my sister kicked out along with myself. My other sister cried too. They were all in pain and torn apart from eachother because of me. I had to move in with my dad because of what I had done. The things I have said, the things I've thought, the things I've done....fuck.
He used me, took advantage of my innocence. 13 years old....I didn't think that was young at the time. Now I see how young 13 is when I look at my brother who is now 13. How the fuck could he have done such a thing to a 13 year old? That's disgusting. I want to pour acid on my skin and scratch my scalp to get the dirt off. The conversations we had....I would rather die than relive it. You make me so sick. Goddamnit. Your face makes me want to curl up and cry until my eyes bleed. It's like how you felt as a child when you thought something was under your bed or in your closet, waiting until the lights were out and when you were all alone. I am attacked constantly, but in my mind. Get the fuck out of my head. I wish those moments, conversations, actions...with you would die and rot away from my mind and my heart. You reek of deception and filth. Get the fuck away from me.
God forbid they found this out, they knew what I've done. They would never look at me the same. I kind of wish they did know, because maybe then they wouldn't bitch about such petty things. I could have it worse, but for me this is what worse feels like. It's stuck in my head and there's no way out. Sometimes I can't look in the mirror because my eyes are filled with what has happened. It reflects back at me and it's like it mocks me, showing me once again how much of a piece of shit I am.
I'm done with you. You have done nothing but bring me down and put cuts on my arms and thighs. Your voice is like shattered glass to my ears. Never ending, shrill, hurtful, and explosive. Goddamn you and everything you've ever done. You're not worth any bit of my suffering, my tears, my blood, my sweat, my struggle. I'm better than you.
You invaded every sanctuary I have ever had, even my own home. How could you do this? What have I done to deserve this? Didn't you have something better to do than fuck around with a 13 year old? I didn't know anything then. I didn't know me, the world, or what the hell I was getting myself into. How could you do such a thing? You led a lamb to the slaughter house like it was a nice, comforting, pure, green field that would NOURISH me, NOT FUCKING KILL me. You deserve to die you son of a bitch. 3 weeks spent in a behavioral hospital, 3 years of depression and torment, and millions of scars, all for you. Fuck you. I hate you and I swear to God on my sister's grave, if I ever see you again, I will make sure you fucking die.
Fast Fast Forward:
Just finished my Freshman year of highschool. I'm proud of myself and comfortable with myself for the first time in my life. I'm what I want to be, not what you want. I'm on Prozac, which is probably my crutch right now and what's keeping me halfway sane. At least I have something...right?