Indeed…

He forgot about you.

Remember that.

Day to night

I feel sick.
I am on the edge of tears.
And on the edge of anger.
How can they correlate?
Because I’ve been worn down.
And I have to keep going.

The fears at night when all sleep,
The scream that had no voice,
The tears that fall and burn.
My lungs feel the weight.

They struggle to know.
My head says this will pass.
But my heart says this no,
You face this world alone,
It’s pain, it’s hard and,
Your screams will never be heard.

This is not rest

I was having an awful nightmare.
My rapist found me.

He hurt me again, physically, and then stopped. He said that he stopped because he knew the way to hurt me most was emotionally.

And then he began to do this.

I woke up and I was being sick for a couple of hours before I finally got back to some sort of vague sleep.

You can’t have it

It’s been a tough week.

I just want to crawl under a rock and make my tears cease.

I just want sleep.

But it doesn’t seem willing.

You are on my mind

I wrote this on April 7th 2013, and now I’m without her, I feel this more than ever.

“Then I went to see my Grandma, I have been so worried about losing her over the last couple of years. I told her I was so scared to lose her and she held me and let me cry on her. I don’t know what I’d do without her, you know that one person it feels like you can’t do without, that without having them with you in your most special moments of life, that they just aren’t as special?

I’m scared to not have her.”

I don’t think words can express how much love and care she gave to me.
She was what kept me going for so many years when I wanted and needed to give up.
She was my mother when mine didn’t know what do with me.
And I still feel her passing every single day.

2 years on!

It has been 2 years since my last suicide attempt.

A year ago or so someone asked me “what does it feel like in that moment when you decide to take your own life” and I remember responding by saying “what, I don’t understand what you’re asking me” and that was where I left it.

I guess a year later I do sort of understand their question. The difference between the build up and the thinking about suicide is different from the feeling you get when you have made the choice definitively and know there is no going back.

The way I have come to understand it is that life goes from a question of:
“Should I or Shouldn’t I?”
To:
“Will I or Won’t I?”

I should do it, but will I. What comes with that decision. I guess at different points I have felt different things, the first time I felt like I had made the wrong choice, I was panicked.

The last time, 2 years ago, I passed out and I had a really vivid dream I don’t remember most of it except this part which I remember very well to this day:
I was with a friend and I was looking down at death and he asked me if I was ready and I said “No”, then I stood and I thought of what it would mean, and I felt peaceful and I said “Yes, I’m ready, I’m ready to feel peace”. And I went.

Then I woke up and I was in the hospital and I was crying. I can remember the day like it was yesterday. I remember being filled with the idea I had to go on still feeling the way I did and it was my own personal hell, and I was angry but I was also exhausted.

2 years on…wow, it’s gone so quickly.

I am in the place I wanted to be in 2 years ago, I can now get through the day without tearing at my skin, without crying every hour, without feeling the feeling that my soul is tearing in half within me.

I used to think that there was poison within me, that with every breath I took it spread, until I was nothing, until my soul was as defective as my body. Now I feel that poison has left me, I don’t feel its effects everyday, and when I do, I know that the feeling won’t last.

In some ways I guess I am thankful because it kick started me into getting better in a much more serious way than I had before because I wanted out of the nightmare I was living and since life was clingy I decided to work everyday to get better. Some days it felt like I achieved nothing, others, it felt like I smiled from my soul.

Dreams

My dreams are hauntingly perfect.

I just woke up from a nightmare where I died. It doesn’t sound perfect, yet it felt right.

I feel sick now though, I feel like I will be sick.

Who am I?
What am I doing?
Why can’t I have any answers?

My nightmares are haunting.

the past keeps cropping up

I havent forgiven myself for a lot of things. And they keep forcing themselves into my mind.

Things I said when I was a kid because I wanted and needed the attention of someone to see my hurt and pain when nobody else did.

I keep thinking about all the mistakes. All the wrong doings. All the lies.

I was a kid, I was a kid who had been through hell and needed help.

Why can’t I forgive that?

Dreams

I just dreamt of my own death, and you know what I felt….regret.

I’m not sure what my title is

I can hear my screams.

That is what I hear in this silence.

“You don’t know pain until you’re staring at yourself in the mirror with tears streaming down your face and you’re begging yourself to just hold on and be strong… That is pain.”

I cannot count the amount of times I have had to will myself to be strong since the time I was 9 years old.

My screams of pain and terror as I was raped at 17 have been a fixture in my dreams of late. I have never dreamt it so vividly or in such clarity as I have recently. I’m looking at it from outside. I’m watching myself get punched, get beaten to the ground, get shouted at, thrown around and then raped.

I can see the aftermath, stumbling through Manchester confused and crying and not knowing what to do but screaming with pain and fear. I remember the one woman who asked me if I was OK, and I just collapsed onto the ground.

Her asking that was the catalyst for me saying “no, I’m not OK, please help me” when everyone else walked past me looking at my bruises, cuts and tears and said nothing, if I could ever find her and thank her I would do it in a heartbeat.

“And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in”

I thought I was meant to live a life that would always have pain. That happiness was reserved for others and it had been taken away from me by either myself or others. I don’t believe that anymore.

I hate him for what he made me believe about myself. That I am always in danger, that I am singled out to suffer, that I am worthless, that I am ugly, that I am invisible, that I will never be good enough, that I can never escape, that I can never be happy. No more.