Tag Archives: Victim

I use to beg to the stars

For so much. I use to beg for strength. Strength to wake up in the morning, and strength to keep going. I begged for strength to find an understanding. I begged. Bawled my eyes out and let go.

When I think about it. About Steve, my throat tightens. My stomache churns and my entire body wants to pull itself into the smallest ball I can create. Completely aware of every part of my body because it’s close to me. Part of me wants to scream and the other part wants to cry. Part of me pushes it away and the other part can’t let go. I wish he was just a fleeting thought, but sometimes it sticks and the rest of my body follows and stays and suddenly I’m three years ago on a new yellow couch and a bright pink polo losing pieces of myself.

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Self Image

Mix in…

3/4 Cup of Aged Pain
A pinch of 3 Years Doubt of Worth
Take Out all Self Worth
Mix in Life’s kicks when you’re down
Plus the age old being a girl doubts.

Creates a living pain of looking in anything reflective. Sometimes I just wish I could cut myself a break and see what everyone else sees. Instead of just watching myself deteriorate. I guess today I just wish I had the strength to stand up for myself.

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Just How Bad It Was

  • I would shake, tremble, and quake with fear. Hate for myself. Worry. Defeat. And Self Loss
  • I would stay awake for hours reenacting each moment and the burn in my throat from not saying a word.
  • I would sit on the roof and pray to who ever would listen
  • Then I would give up my prayers determined I didn’t deserve help.
  • I would have to force my meals down, because puking came too easy.
  • I completely changed my route in town, and at school. To avoid him.
  • I would turn the shower on as hot as it could get sitting on the floor. Crying.
  • I would swim to the middle of the lake, begging anyone and something to make it easier.

Except now I wonder how much of that has  changed or how much of me has changed. How to I explain to people, just how bad bad was? Imagine the worst, and then throwing a hopeless cause in the middle of it. That. Was me.

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If You Want to Talk

I’m here. Gosh he’s repeated that a few times now. Sometimes I want to just go from start to finish and just keep going. Except it doesn’t work like that, because I’ve put a lock for so long on my ideas and my words.

Part of me wishes when he met Margie he’d ask some things that she just understands.

Why does she always say she doesn’t deserve me? Because you see. She doesn’t think she deserves a thing. She just doesn’t understand why people would want to be around her, or why people enjoy being around her. She thinks that if it’s good it should go to someone else. Someone who deserves it. She just doesn’t understand.

Why does she always think she’s a bad person? Because she let it happen well at least according to her. She doesn’t think she’s a good person or all she does is ever enough. She’d give and give till she had nothing left, and she’d still feel like it wasn’t enough.

What do you mean enough? She’s told you she’s broken before right? Ya Well you see she thinks there is a large piece of her missing. Like she’s half of the woman she use to be. Half the woman she could be, because she lost the other half and can’t get it back. So she’d give you everything she’s got, but it’s only half of what she wants to give you.

How does she still go on whole-heartedly? Because that’s her. She goes everywhere with everything she’s got. She’s convinced she’s gonna die early because she lives through so much and still has so much. She thinks it’s some big test that you learn how to keep going and giving it your all.

Do you think she’ll ever figure it out? Slowly. She understands in bits and pieces for short periods of time. Sometimes it’s just a lot though so she chooses to take what she can.

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Two Worlds Collide

World One: Home town. Small Town. Pigeon Hole. Bottled Anger. Victim. Bottled Hurt. Bottled Pain. Bottled Self. Long story: I was molested by my high school boyfriend and carried it around with me like a bad curse. I distanced myself from those whom I was closest to.  Chin up Chest out and face the world. Hard. Cold.

World Two: College Town. New Home. New person. Expressive. Life and a whole lot of it. Experiences up the wazzo. Long story: I went to college and faced so much of my fears. I trusted a man (and fell in love?). I opened my heart. I showed my scars and someone kissed them and caressed them.

I came back home and my life was thrown into the past. It was.. horrible. Except I wasn’t here. I was visiting NewGuy. I was going to banquets. I was at work. I ignored so much of the pain that is embedded in the walls of my bedroom, the threads of the couch, the streets of my home town. I took NewGuy around not even feeling or remembering the pain that is so evident, only knowing the comfort of his hand on mine, and the softness of his lips.

My two worlds just collided. I whispered in the dark. So of course he asked me to explain. I with Steve what? Three years ago? Except I was swimming, I was busy, I bottled a lot of hurt up and I carried it with me as heavy as it was. It took me till College to want to let them go. Its hard. There was a lot. He holds me. Then you come where everything was bad, and show me that things can be good. It’s just. Two worlds colliding.

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Who I am

Is who I have always been, chosen to be, and the things that helped strengthen and shape me are a part of who I am as well. It is like I am a tree and someone threw barbed wire around my sides to stop me from growing, except instead I have embraced the pain and continued to grow with a slight flaw or difference. IMG_2678

It’s difficult to know who I am, why I am, and the things I do, and try to explain them to other people. Why is it so important that you always carry such strength? Because it helped me live for so long. Why is it you have trouble trusting. Because when I trust, I do it whole heartedly, so you better deserve it. Why do you always give back. Because sometimes that’s all I have to give. Why is it some days you are just so sad and quiet. Because the very world makes me sad, that I don’t fit with my flaw.

Lately it’s been a new battle to know who I am and be this strong, while trusting someone else. While holding someone so close to me. My battle is no longer just my own, instead my scars are kissed and caressed for the first time I can be a little weak. It’s nice and yet it’s scary as hell. Sometimes I worry, Does chipping away my cold heart make me lose a piece of who I am? No. It makes me more the person I want to be.

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Not What Made Me

What I chose to be. Part of me was always angry at what Steve turned me into. This unhappy, innocence lost, sad, angry, confused person. While I am these things and he probably is to blame for those things I was also angry for other things.

For losing my innocence and ignorance. In other words, for growing up too fast. Except I learned how to do this, and I did it fast. I grew up because I wanted to. Because I was sick of acting 12 and because I didn’t want to be put in a situation like I was with Steve. I wanted to be with someone more mature, someone who understood, someone who wouldn’t make the same mistakes Steve did.

I realized that of a lot of the things I was most angry about where things I chose to do as a defense mechanism, and therefore really did make me a stronger better person. I hated how I felt like I lost everything so I decided to give everything I had left. Likewise I learned how to keep on keepin’ on, and in return became extremely strong in nature and determined. Essentially as bad as it all is, I made pretty damn well for myself.

Note: Have to gain back confidence, I am a good strong, independent woman.

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