I hate people sometimes, I hate it when men act like they own me, they act like my body is theirs for the taking. When i ope up to my parents about it they can't see past their own shitty parenting. They sucked at parenting when I was born which resulted in four suicide attempts. Granted I don't have the worst life, my parents were behind a dumpster with needles hanging out of their arms. So many people handle trauma differently and it's not fair if you have had to witness or experience any of it. This world is cruel, it will never stop being cruel. People will not give two shits as to what you've been through, at the end of the day, you are only left with yourself.
Breathe in... Breath out...
Life is hard...
Life is hard when you’re not some blue eyed blonde with a perfect body.
Life is hard when you grow up with parents who hate each other.
Life is hard when you look at yourself and your life and you hate it, but it could “never be as bad as others.”
Life is hard when you tilt your head up and stare at the ceiling in the shower as the water runs down and all you feel is the hands that have been tattooed on your body from that horrible night. 133Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6rSxe5fj7g
Life is hard. When you look down and you see the scars that are left from the night you tried to take your own life.
But you would never actually do it, right? You have no reason, right? People care about you, right?
Right!?
The two words that circle your head the most...
Right and why...?
You’re always supposed to be right, but you can never understand why.
You want and are taught to get the right education but why...?
Why do I have to get an education if none of it matters? Not the relationships that were held, not the rumors that were spread, not the people that were there.
All you can do is sit in your room with your purple lights on and sad songs playing and wonder why.
Why doesn’t it make sense?
Am I overthinking? Am I looking for attention?
I don’t know...
Maybe if this guy tells me I'm pretty I'll feel better right?
He doesn’t want ME for ME, he wants me for my BODY.
But that’s fine, right?
Because I'm a slut who knows nothing better.
If I take this drug..., will it feel better?
I got it. Maybe if I stop eating.
They tell me to look at the future, but all I see is a coffin.
But if not, a coffin I see pain and sorrow so deep that it downs me in my thoughts at night. I’m at a constant war with myself...
To feel or not to feel?
If I let in in and feel than I relive the memories, I relive the pain, that turned to anger, I remember the friendships that I lost, my best friend that left me, my closest relative, taken from me.
But if I were to shut it out, I would push away what little I have left...
The one friend I have left, the half friendship that I have with a voice over the phone. My mother... my sister....
But sometimes the pain is too much to bear.
I’m on these anti-depressants but I don’t feel happy.
I sit in my room alone, with the monsters, they tell me that I'm pretty.
“Mom, can you come downstairs, like now.”
Running down the stairs, my heart is pounding, I can’t breathe, I black out and the only thing that I can feel is the pain of butyral... Maybe I'm exaggerating and it’s just my lungs gasping for air.
The blood...
The blood...
The blood...
The blood is all I see.
He told me “Forever” but when I see forever, I see forever. (When I see forever is see over, written in bold)
People will tell you that there is nothing wrong with you or that whatever you’ve been through is in the past now, so you have no motive to end your life.
But the fact that I go to the doctor, and she tells me that I need to go to an in-patience hospital that’s more than an hour away from home, away from my family.
But I'm tired of looking in the mirror and behind me stands a black shadow holding a blade to my back reminding me to show him my body. I want to be able to look in the mirror and see a shiny reflection of bright self-esteem.
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