What Are You

I sit and I hear the rain outside. I smoke a cigarette. It almost feels like each time the smoke enters my lungs, I don’t feel hands all over my body anymore. But I will feel them forever. And it’s my fault. I deserve this pain. Everything I am feeling. People are worried for me, but they shouldn’t be. I don’t have the nerve to do what I want to. But I wish I did. I am drowning and I can’t pull myself out. The drugs worked for a while but now I can still feel what they were blocking out. I cry every day now. For a long time. I feel disgusting. And no amount of bleach can take that away. I hate myself more than anyone ever could. But that is my penance. I know that God loves me, but he feels so far. I hate myself. I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself

Sometimes I wondered if anything was actually wrong with me. Maybe I just longed to be understood, and it eventually drove me mad.

Another day of wanting to throw my phone into a river and never owning one again

Grief can be so odd. In the middle of crying out your soul, you have to shout “stop chasing the cat!” to your dogs for the fifth time today. That’s when it hit me. Although for a moment I have set my little part of the world on pause, the rest of the world continues regardless if I choose to join it. The dog will still chase the cat, no matter how heavy your tears are falling that day. Life goes on. It doesn’t give us a chance to catch our breath. It doesn’t slow down. It just keeps going. And you have to figure out how to do it. How to live again. But you do. Differently than before, but you do. How strange to think that as we live the worst days of our lives, a stranger is out there having a normal Wednesday.

I think that I deserved it sometimes. I’ll probably never speak out on any real level, but sometimes it’s nice to think that I didn’t. That I didn’t ask for it. Even though I did. I really really did. And I just hope that I’m the only one he did that to. I was so young and I thought that we were in love. That wasn’t love. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell you what real love looks like. But I know it wasn’t that. And I know whatever it was, it wasn’t right. But it happened. And I have to move on from it. It was over a decade ago. How am I not healed yet? I need to be over it. I should be over it. I made my choice. I have to live with it now. I hope I can live with it. One day at a time. I’ll live through this. I have to. Because somewhere there is a little girl like me wondering if she can live through it too. I’m living for her. And the girl I could have been.