Because I've lived with the screaming silence so long. You know, the place where all the unspoken things have been shoved, walled up and locked away. Maybe, certainly I will offend and expose as I routinely put everyone's feelings above my own. For I am but a pawn in a game where everyone else is king.
Maybe I'll just write in whispers that only attentive listeners can hear.
Maybe no one's reading these rants anyway but I cannot sit comfortably with all these unsaids.
Lest I offend, I have failed miserably as a mother. When your kid ends up in prison and no longer speaks to you, clearly I have not been the most virtuous or able bodied, sound minded parent.
It's lies when we think we are self-made when 18 years have been spent indoctrinated overtly, subtly, falsely with whatever beliefs our parents lived by.
I learned to become a thief. Stealing a glass of water while pretending to not be thirsty, for if they knew my real motive, they would have taken it from me for want, for...dare I say need, was a weapon, a tool, a threat and bargaining chip.
We read about wars, famine and animal abuses and our eyes tear up as we outrage but I do not. For I was the beaten, hungry dog in the street and there were no ads or posts moving others to help.
The injustices you revolt against...I lived. Forgive me for a heart hardened by personal suffering and torture. I am somewhat blind to these newsworthy maladies. No one tried to save me thus all my energy goes in to saving myself.
I'm too broken, beaten and damaged to give a tinker's damn about anything other then my selfish desire to figure out how to forgive, like myself and regain an ounce of self-worth within a body that spent years being raped and within a mind being tormented.
I wasn't allowed the gift of having the basic needs of a secure, safe home, enough to eat and a loving adult, so I'm a bit parched inside...and I'm always thirsty and pretending not to be.
I don't know if it will ever come to pass that my needs will even be marginally fulfilled. I've denied them so long, denying they exist that I'm guessing my first order of business would be daring to acknowledge that I have any. Inaudible, loud gasp. Not sure I can do that.
Based on experience, if I reach out seeking like, I'll be ostracized and pushed away into a corner. How does one undo the routines that were repeated daily? Weekly? How to change the emotional patterns and controls that were so vehemently drilled into my brain? How can I ever ask for anything when I was taught I deserved nothing? How do I pick myself off the floor when boots drag their heels on my head? When offenders still feel such righteous indignation that I would dare to question my use as their doormat.
There have never been apologies because I have always deserved their boots. I'm a liar for calling the mighty kettle black and no amount of words will ever allow me to be seen as a real person. They call me a liar, a manipulator, an attention seeker when all I've asked for is common respect, an opportunity to be heard and seen. My words are fodder for deaf ears, so I write hoping someone hears or cares..
I'm alone within these walls. I'm alone with all the events that took place because no one has ever been willing to hear. I've been reluctant to speak for fear of damaging the listener...I laugh because no one even hesitated to damage me. I've been the tinker's damn. I've been giving courtesy to heathens. I've been such a fool.
Enough with this keeping shit inside.
God, I wished someone had cared about me. I had like 10 aunts and uncles...why couldn't just one of them taken a special interest in the withdrawn, quiet, kind child? Really? Not one? So much for family always being there for you. And they wonder why I left. I felt unwanted and quite hurt.
See, I'm sure someone loves the fact that I hurt...twisted family thinking rears it's ugly head. Oh, how they loved to pick on and make fun of someone. Always in need of a scapegoat...baahhhh.
Taught that I deserved pain and suffering...for what? Being alive, breathing and Don and Sharon's daughter. The two of them carried so much pain and torment of their own that they really needed to offload onto someone. Does the fact that they had suffered given them any right to inflict on me? How is it I can see, understand and forgive then when I can't forgive myself? Why am I so goddamn nice, respectful and forgiving that I no longer hate them? How can I absorb both their pain and mine...and still be breathing?
How can I be such a good person
Yet be so alone, untouchable and unloved
I haven't made any friends here yet, but to clarify, I've only been here 5 months.
Processing...
It's got to be kind of amazing, right? that I'm like taking the high road with people that tied me to railroad tracks and drove the engine full tilt.
I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I deserve a crowd of applause, angels singing and the heavens opening up, giving me abundance because I'm still fucking standing, forgiving and so goddamn fucking kind.
Maybe that's why I'm here
I keep wanting my life to not be what it is. I want love, happiness, rainbows and I'm just a storm girl, you know?
I'd probably burn in the sun. I wouldn't recognize love if it hit me in the heart. Rainbows are illusions, fog and mirrors.
You know...this is just what I am...battling soldier trying to find the barbed wire to crawl under that will make me bleed the least.
I need to stop running from my fate
I need to stop wishing for things meant only for others.
It seems so twisted yet calming to say. This is just me.
