Category Archives: abuse

You tried to beat me down. 

You lifted me up so I would fall harder. 

And I fell. 

It hurt. 

Though I was bleeding and bruised, 

I staggered to my feet. 

You said I was your everything. 

You claimed to love me. 

But then you’d see a loose thread on my sweater and pull. 

Pull me apart and watch me unravel on the floor. 

Then with your tongue to lash at my flesh. 

Your words leaving welts on my heart.

Again, bruised and bleeding, you help me to my feet, clean me up.

Only to push me down again. 

I became numb. 

I couldn’t feel the pain but in turn,

I could no longer feel the tenderness of love. 

I was a machine. I was a game. I was a game you were losing.

 And you lost. 

But someone else came along and found the reset button. 

Tuned me up and I’m as good as new. 

I can feel. I was wrong. 

I’m no machine. 

I’m real. He’s real. WE’RE REAL. 

Acceptance and understanding brought me back to life. 

I can breathe and there is no heaviness on my chest. Suffocating me. Smothering me. 

He knows me. All of me. Every me that ever was. 

This is what love is. 

And it’s bliss. 

I’m sinking

The ground has given to the weight upon me. The weight that is me.  So much wine flowing through my veins my very presents opens a fault line under my achey toes. I bear down, but the earth just crumbles to sand as I desperately try to keep my head from being buried beneath the rubble.  The destruction and chaos that myself alone am responsible for.  I am the driver of the vessel that barrels through the crowd of people, losing control,  losing myself and taking everyone down in the process.  I’m not a nice person.  At least not if you are close to me. Or as close as you let me.  If i love you,  i will shut you out.  I will pick fights with you because you have gotten to me.  You have me at a point that I am no longer in control. You CAN hurt me. And you will.  But the only one to blame is me.  I’m shutting you out because you don’t understand me
Nobody does.  I should be alone, but I can’t be alone.  I don’t want to hurt.  I don’t want to freak out.  I don’t want to be crazy. 

But I am.  I’m fucking nuts. 

If I can’t find something,  i scream,  i cry,  i punch walls, doors,  if i could get by with it,  I’d punch myself.  I’m no picnic. I’m the eye of the hurricane.  I’m the olive sky before a tornado. I’m the brilliant lights of lightning as it strikes your dwelling. I’m the girl that wants to be better; wants to do better, wants to be good enough and not like my head and heart are tangled and and ripping eachother apart.  like my whole life is ending everytime there is a bump in the pavement, a crack in the sidewalk or a pebble in my shoe. Someone help me.  pllease god…help me. I’m defective.  I’m destructive,  my pain is contagious. I leave all I touch writhing in agony.  My tears are as acidic as the phrases that dance off the tip of my tongue. My pretty mouth will  frame words that will paint everything as red as my lipstick. My hands are cold and tremble, and will freeze one to the core. Hearts freeze and shatter like mine did.  I’m contagious.

And then…

I lay in bed, with my stomach turning and my heart sinking deeper into my the deepest pit of my stomach wondering why. Why don’t you believe in me? what is it about me that makes me so unworthy of your trust? I wonder why you don’t seem to care how I’m feeling.  My soul is dying, and you don’t even seem to notice the flicker of fire  that once danced in my eyes is now just cinder.   when you’re away,  sometimes I just need a person to talk to.  Someone to distract me from the loathing i feel sweep over me when I look in the mirror. All of the broken pieces of myself at your feet, but instead of helping me scoop it up and put me back together,  you just swept those pieces under the rug.  I keep moving forward,  wounded,  hoping you’ll slow down and recognize that I’m bleeding.  I wait for you to ask me if I’m okay, but instead,  you point out my flaws, those missing pieces and imperfections.

You don’t understand nor do you want to. I just want you to care if whether or not I’m okay.  But most of all, I just want to BE okay.

Damnation

Affiliation and impersonation, consolation and determination lead to unification

Manipulation disguised as adoration  then fertilization and insemination.

Realization followed by termination in  with justification in fear of deformation.

then devastation.

Now deviation, defamation, consolidation,  revocation.  Humiliation.  Mortification. 

Devastation. 
Devastation
Regret and devastation.

Over it.

You know when someone hurts you, over and over, and like a doormat, you lie there while they wipe the shit off their shoes into the fibers of your soul, and yet, you still just crave their acceptance and approval? You think about them all the time. They reject you, pull you back in, throw you back out, and on and on it goes.

I haven’t spoken to the one whom played this obdurate charade upon my heart in months. Sure…it was difficult to endure the deafening silence…But I’m okay! I’m just fine! I’m breathing. I’m laughing and smiling…I’m living. I’m really living.

Sure,I think about him from time to time, how supposedly he’s married to a 17 year old, but now, I’m no longer ambivalent. I’m no longer baffled and befuddled.
Im no longer flummoxed and flustered, perplexed and perturbed. At least not about him. But most of all, no longer in a timorous state of self loathing. I wish him the best. I’m no longer angry.

After being single…I mean REALLY single, without him calling me everyday making me feel guilty for ever leaving my home, and seeing what my options really were… they’re amazing, impressive, intelligent and beautiful men that wanted to be with me…I realized, I can do better. And I have. I have a boyfriend now…will it last? Who knows. But I’m enjoying him. He’s a wonderful man. He calms me. Makes me laugh. and I love spending time with him. The best part…He is just as interested in my son as I am. He pays attention to the therapists, implementing everything they say and do into his interaction with him, he cares. I don’t know if I love him. I know he loves me, because he tells me every day. I’m finally being treated how I deserve. I’m happy and so grateful. 

image

Realizations

It’s over.  And I’m glad.  I need to rid myself of people whom make me feel less than.  I’m perfectly imperfect.  I have flaws and I embrace them.  I am not a martyr, a messiah nor am I anyone’s hero.  I love my child I’m a good mother and that is all I need to be. I’m nothing to you nothing to anyone but my child.  You say I’m used up. .. you say I use people. . Well who cares what you have to say? You’re a speck. A tiny speck. All of us are.  I don’t care what anyone thinks.  I’ve made my mistakes and in time, I’ll learn from all of them all.  I have no regrets.  Do I miss you,  sometimes.  Do I want to have contact. .. sometimes.  But do I NEED you?  Well. .. I’ve made it this long,  and I think I’m doing fine.  I’m beginning to think for myself again.  Wear my hair how I want to wear it,  wear my make up, clothes whatever without your ridicule, criticism, or as you like to call it,  guidance. 

You once told me,  after I had stated that you weren’t sweet to me anymore.  You never complimented me or said things to make me feel good about myself, that is how you’re supposed to mold someone into what you want them to be. How you train them.  At the time I thought you were joking. Well hind sight really is 20/20.

Im fine just the way I am.  I have plenty of people that think I’m beautiful just as I am. .. although the pin up look,  that was my doing.  You just tried to take credit. You encouraged me to dye my hair,  change my style, dress and look how I did when I was 16. I took a little of that and ran with it.  I dyed my hair. .. but not how you wanted but it looks awesome.  I look awesome.  I will say one thing. .. you helped me find myself.  How I’m most comfortable.  Except the yoga pants.  I don’t give a shit how much you hate them.  They make my ass looks hot and they are comfy as fuck. 

I thought that you would be “the one that got away” but,  I think I’m the one that got away.  There is a reason I couldnt stick with the idea of moving away.  I realized,  if you really felt how how you claimed to feel,  you wouldn’t have left me hanging.  You would’ve helped me get there.  You don’t really love me.  You never did. 

So as I put a close to this post, I’m just going to wish you luck.  If you call,  you know I’ll answer, shoot me an email, I’ll reply. .. but I’ll never fall like that again.  Not for you.  I don’t even know who you are. 

Tethered

Here I lay with a hollow chest, nor the slightest twinkle of life in my eyes. The sheets feel cold and so does my skin and I realize, it’s because so am I. The blood in my body remains motionless because my battered, blackened heart no longer has the strength to continue beating. I’m atrophied, wasted, and out of my mind. Wide awake, no longer sedated by your words. You gutted me like it was hunting season, laced up your sneakers and stomped away kicking sand into my weary eyes. I thought you loved me. Maybe you did, but I ripped you apart too many times. Ripped away the best pieces trying to
Keep them for myself only to find they would soon wither away, leaving you incomplete. The damage is done. Its beyond repair. We are no longer. It’s just you. And. Me. I wish you happiness. I hope you find peace. I hope you find the pieces of yourself I tried to keep. I hope you find out who you are. I will always adore you. But sometimes, the things that we love most, are the things that kill us.