Beautiful

She was beautiful. And that smile came out different than I meant it too. But I was happy. Someone cared enough to smile at the no one.

Cycle

Aching

Crying inside

Hurting

Longing

Empty

God. I just want that cycle to go away. I want to be held…which, to me, is sardonic. I can’t stand being held since I was sexually assaulted. I used to love hugs, especially long ones. But now, if you hug me for longer than a minute or two, I get fidgety and my only thoughts are “Let go, let go, let go!” I almost begin to wish someone would hold me until I no longer think that. Until I can cry. Until I can sleep without the nightmares coming back.

But…you see, that will never happen. I cannot be who I wish to be; and who I ought to be, I will not be.

Cleaning

Cleaning is a slow process when it is a deep clean. Especially in my bedroom. But even more so in my heart. Sometimes, I want to smash my mirror with my fist. I do not like who I see staring back at me.

Truths

As cliche as it is to say this, things are never as they seem. Another friend came out as gay today. How hard that must be to make everyone look at you differently, to make them see you as you see yourself. Even though it goes against the religion I grew up with and am still a part of, I am still going to support him as a friend should.
So, even though you'll never read this Alex, I will stand by you as a friend regardless of your sexual orientation. I promise that to you and to anyone reading this.

Relections

Reading back over my posts so far on this blog has reminded me of how much pain I've been through. And how slow my progress is towards happiness. And yet, it IS progress. Because I'm now seeing a counselor/psychologist about once a week who has helped a lot. And now I'm seriously trying to watch what I eat and exercise daily. I have yet to miss a day of exercise (save Sundays only) and it has been over half a month. That is nothing short of miraculous for me. Though, I have a good coach and cheer leader in my sister. Her children are also good cheer leaders, even if sometimes the older child's innocent comments can be unintentionally hurtful. He is just a small boy who says what he thinks and sees. There is no tact filter in his mind yet. And I know he loves me.
So who knows, by this time next year, I could be much skinnier and healthier and maybe even much happier. As scary as life is and can and will be...this is something to look forward to :)

Truth

I just want to be left alone. Okay? If you think I'm looking for attention, ignore it. Because I'm not. I'm just being me. And I want to be left alone.

Corner

Sometimes, I wish I had a different body. The person I see in my head when I think about myself does not look like the person that looks back at me in the mirror. The girl I see in my head is small and skinny with long dark hair. She lives in the corner of an empty, dark room. Sometimes, she appears in a bright sunny field of long grasses when life seems to be going okay. But never do I think of myself in terms of this...monster I see in the mirror. Scars. Fat. Disproportionate. Ugly. Used.

Unwanted.

Lies

Never believe the image you see on the outside of a person, 99.9% of the time it is a lie. Like the way people outside of my family see us. One. Huge. Effing. Lie.

We're a mess. And falling apart. And I don't even know if it's worth the effort to try to find some glue.

Masks only seem to hide more masks

Is anyone real anymore? We all hide behind masks. It's disgusting. And Valentine's is just another mask. I hate it.

But the worst part? I don't want to see who some people are underneath their masks.

Ruins

How far I have fallen from that once great height of imagined superiority I held as an early teenager. If I could see myself now from my eyes then, I would never talk to myself. I would condemn myself as ruined. How far I have fallen...yet I still seem to be in free-fall. When does it stop? Will it ever end?

Crying

I wish crying fixed things the way it did when we were little. But it doesn't. Oftentimes now it makes it worse because I have expended even more energy on a problem that I want to go away. I pretend to be tough and strong and able to fight my battles and the battles of my friends against their persecutors, but I'm not. When I'm alone at night...I crack. And I'm afraid that soon I'll break entirely beyond repair. I want desperately to cry for help...but no one can do anything even if I do seek help. I am the only one who can help myself but I don't know how. And everything in me screams that I don't deserve help in the first place.

Yet...

help me.

Tears of Blood

I used to think crying tears of blood was impossible. But now I've discovered there is more than one way to cry.

I've made it no secret to most people that I cut myself in order to deal with my pain. In order to deal with the images and thoughts that haunt me. I was a cutter. So what? Big deal.

Except it is a big deal. Because I still do it and have to hide it so I don't freak my friends and family out. Because it creates scars that I still don't know how to explain to my curious nieces and nephews and grandparents. Because I love it. I don't do it all the time. I don't depend on it for survival 99% of the time, but there is something intoxicating about it.

Funny thing is that I usually sit there staring at the blade in my hand before I even take the first swipe at my skin. Why? Because I'm afraid of the pain of the cut when it happens. Some cutters prefer the numbness that massive cuts bring and then detest the pain that comes as it starts to heal. I prefer minor cuts near joints so that the cuts stretch and tear and are constantly painful until they heal a good amount. It reminds me of my place in life. And it's deliciously delirious and distracting. A distraction that I crave when I am in the right frame of mind to cut myself.

I never bleed very much anymore because of where I cut now and because of how fat I am there/everywhere. Occasionally I get what I call a blood thirst when I crave large amounts of blood. To see, taste, smell and touch. But 99.9% of the time I can resist it because of that fear of the pain of the immediate cutting sensation.

Lately, I cut to remember to try to convince myself that I am a no one who is worth nothing. To block out images of the disappointment on the faces of those closest to me. To shut my mind against the image of myself not fighting back against them. To achieve a state of numb distraction.

I'm not suicidal. Most of the time. But 2010 hurt me more than I know how to tell anyone. There are so many lies and secrets and so much pain locked up in that year. It is all so fresh. I've never cried myself to sleep until recently when thoughts of suicide overtake me. They are so crystal clear and I can see everything I would need to do to accomplish the task. I cry because I know I am too weak and afraid to actually go through with it. And because there is a laughing voice in the back of my mind that says I should anyhow because I deserve it and everything else I've gone through.

And no, I don't need or want a lecture on how I don't deserve any of this. I've heard it so often it sounds fake and disgusting to me.

I don't know who you are or why you are reading this, but I'm messed up. Get over it. Because, really? Who isn't messed up in one way or another?