I think about dying sometimes.
I know that I won't, but I sometimes think about it when I feel this way.
It's crushing. This sense that I am about to lose everything and won't be able to handle it, that I'm a failure, that I'm dirty, that I'm broken, that I will never be enough for him... it's tearing me apart.
I feel like everything I need to be to exist in this world, is everything I'm not.I need to have no problems, no insecurities, no past.
There are times like today where I fall so deeply into this painfully numb walking coma where I feel like it's just happened. Like they were just there... doing what they did. Like everyone is unreasonably asking me to just be okay, asking me to toughen up, telling me I'm dramatic.
Maybe I am. But it certainly doesn't feel unreasonable to me, to still be effected by rape, sexual abuse and emotional abuse... no matter how much time has past? Especially if you're still living with the symptoms... mental and physical. Why is it so unreasonable to hurt, and want to be held by the one you love? The actions are old, but the pain is still very, very real.
I think I'll just have to take it, feel the pain every day and squash how I feel about it deep down away from my thoughts and emotions so no-one can see. I think I'll just have to keep it all in until I fall apart. At least then, there will be a gap. There will be a period of time where 'everything was okay' and that can serve as a snapshot of my capability, then when it hits the fan, it will be obviously serious enough to see that I need to be cared for. It won't be unreasonable then. It will be obvious how much I'm hurting. Or maybe if I keep finding ways to cry alone, it will never show, and everything will be fine.
I don't think I'm dramatic. I just think I find a tiny bit of comfort in being poetic with my own misery. I think that way I can write like it's a tragic story. Like it's not real. Like it never happened to me.
I don't want to kill myself... I just want to disappear. I don't want to feel this way any more. I just want to be happy and loved equally. Is that so much to ask for? After everything I've been through? I think now might be the time to stop asking. At least then I won't be disappointed. I can start being content tomorrow instead. Let's see how that pans out. It's probably trying so hard that got me here in the first place.
I know that I won't, but I sometimes think about it when I feel this way.
It's crushing. This sense that I am about to lose everything and won't be able to handle it, that I'm a failure, that I'm dirty, that I'm broken, that I will never be enough for him... it's tearing me apart.
I feel like everything I need to be to exist in this world, is everything I'm not.I need to have no problems, no insecurities, no past.
There are times like today where I fall so deeply into this painfully numb walking coma where I feel like it's just happened. Like they were just there... doing what they did. Like everyone is unreasonably asking me to just be okay, asking me to toughen up, telling me I'm dramatic.
Maybe I am. But it certainly doesn't feel unreasonable to me, to still be effected by rape, sexual abuse and emotional abuse... no matter how much time has past? Especially if you're still living with the symptoms... mental and physical. Why is it so unreasonable to hurt, and want to be held by the one you love? The actions are old, but the pain is still very, very real.
I think I'll just have to take it, feel the pain every day and squash how I feel about it deep down away from my thoughts and emotions so no-one can see. I think I'll just have to keep it all in until I fall apart. At least then, there will be a gap. There will be a period of time where 'everything was okay' and that can serve as a snapshot of my capability, then when it hits the fan, it will be obviously serious enough to see that I need to be cared for. It won't be unreasonable then. It will be obvious how much I'm hurting. Or maybe if I keep finding ways to cry alone, it will never show, and everything will be fine.
I don't think I'm dramatic. I just think I find a tiny bit of comfort in being poetic with my own misery. I think that way I can write like it's a tragic story. Like it's not real. Like it never happened to me.
I don't want to kill myself... I just want to disappear. I don't want to feel this way any more. I just want to be happy and loved equally. Is that so much to ask for? After everything I've been through? I think now might be the time to stop asking. At least then I won't be disappointed. I can start being content tomorrow instead. Let's see how that pans out. It's probably trying so hard that got me here in the first place.
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