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a public journal, of sorts. day by day, maybe i'll feel a little less alone. | they/them

Coping SkillsGeneralRantsStories of Loss

the feeling of being watched

by system
written by system

what if he finds me?  what if he hunts me down again?  what if he’s still watching me?

i can’t shake the feeling.  i haven’t been able to ever since the abuse started.

i can still feel it.  on the back of my neck.  i never feel safe.  he continues to have a suffocating grip on me even after i mustered up the courage to get as far away from him as possible.  listen to the fbi.  lock everything down.  deactivate all my social media accounts, lock my phone number, get my school e-mail changed.

but he’s still here.  he’s left an impression of himself, it’s seared into my mind.  he left marks.  holy fuck, he left marks.  i still have the burns.  i still have his name permanently scarred into my flesh.  thank god most of the facial scars from the razors are gone, because i stayed inside until they fully healed (not that i had any interest in going fucking anywhere.  ever), religiously applied mederma and wore gauze on my face for a fucking week and a half.  i wasn’t as lucky with his name because he made me RE-OPEN THE WOUND EVERY FUCKING NIGHT.

there was so much blood.  there was so much fucking blood.

why did you do this to me, ******?

you convinced me that this was love.

why the fuck do i feel so empty without you even though you tore apart what was left of me?

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Family & Friends EffectsGeneralPoetry & ArtRantsStories of Loss

foreign feelings

by system
written by system

i have a friend overseas who i’ve known for around 4 years now.

he’s really important to me.  but i’m scared.

i’m scared because he hasn’t betrayed me.

i’m scared because he hasn’t gotten rid of me.

i’m scared because he hasn’t dropped me.

i’m scared because he insists that he cares about me.

i’m terrified of all of it, it’s so foreign to me.  to have someone who doesn’t want to break me down until i’m nothing.

whenever he says he cares about me

the only thing i can think of is “i don’t believe you.”

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GeneralRantsStories of Loss

manic panic

by system
written by system

ican hear him again.  i can feel his hands.  they’re cold. they’recoldthey’recold they’re so cold

i long for the euphoria of being loved by the person he pretended to be

being loved by the mask that he wore

but it was all fake

itwasalie itwasalie itwasalie

thecuts there were so many cuts there was so much blood

on my lips

on my face

on my thighs

i couldn’t stop bleeding it just kept flowing andflowingandflowing

andicried for him to make it stop

make it stop make it stop make it stop

but he just told me to smile

“please smile”

and i did.

he said i wasn’t bleeding enough so i dug deeper

and deeper

and deeperanddeeper

itwasn’tenou gh it will never be enough

****** why why why why did you do this to me

iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou so much and i fucking hate your guts, ******

get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head

GET OUT OF MY HEADGET OUT GET OUT GET OUTGETOUT

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GeneralPoetry & ArtStories of Loss

they all leave

by system
written by system

they say they love you and they leave

they say that you’re their entire world and they leave

they say that you are irreplaceable and then they leave

they say that they’ve never met anyone like you and then they leave

everybody leaves.

they always leave.

everything is fleeting.

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GeneralStories of Hope

this place & why it’s so special

by system
written by system

never in my life have I found a community like this one, a community so unapologetically open about their pain.  it’s such a breath of fresh air.  i feel.. so much less alone when i read & write here.  the ability to share my story, my struggles, my feelings, and my trauma here has saved me.  the thing about trauma is that it’s so taboo, i can never talk about it.  i have to keep it shoved away in a lock box- but not here.  here i can scream, and cry, and experience my unrelenting rage with no shame.  here, i get to struggle.

i get to struggle and i’m not alone.

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GeneralRants

harassment! my favorite! /s

by system
written by system

trigger warning for mentions of stalking/blackmail/abuse + victim blaming + abuse romanticization + mentions of forced self mutilation… and excessive sarcasm on my part (under the screenshots).

thread 1: on my post “liar [internal dialogue]”

thanks for the insincere apology.  how do I know it was insincere? oh, well, I dunno… maybe because you continued to act like this even after I made it clear that you had crossed boundaries.

thread 2: on my post titled “temptation”

gross.

thread 3: on my post titled “i love the person you pretended to be”

context for my reply below VVVV: it took me a bit to type out and I hadn’t seen the above response until I had posted my reply.

right. a r*pe victim who has c-ptsd and 9 years worth of trauma is miserable! so surprising!! wow!!! i had no idea!!!! thank you for enlightening me!!!  what a genius you are! /s

 

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Coping SkillsGeneralRants

1:30 am internal dialogue

by system
written by system

don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me DON’T TOUCH ME

my skin is fucking crawling.  he’s here again.  he’s in my blood, in my bones.  he’s in my room, but he’s not.  his hands are cold.  ****** please leave me alone.  pleasep lease please pleaseplease leave me al one,,..

i can hear him again.  i can hear him.  a broken record, repeating over and over all the things he said

i can feel the razors.  it burns it burns it burns it burns makeit stop please, ******

my body is a trauma graveyard and these scars are the gravestones

please stop ican’t breathe you’re hurting me, ******.  you’re hurting me.  you’re hurting me again.

i’m suffocating

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GeneralRants

“pretty”

by system
written by system

i might be called selfish or vain for what i’m going to say but quite frankly i don’t give a shit because i know neither of those things are true.  i hate my body.  not because i’m ugly but because i’m “conventionally attractive” or some shit.  contrary to what it sounds like, my head isn’t up my own ass and I’m basing this off of what i’ve been told about how i look (for most of my conscious life).  i’m really tiny, i have an hourglass body shape, i’m “fit”, my skin is clear, and i have good facial features (god it’s so hard to write this without sounding like a self absorbed piece of shit).  and you know what?  i fucking hate it.  HATE it.  i wish i was invisible.  i wish i could wear what i wanted without being sexualized and without terrifying old men looking at me.  my size makes me vulnerable.  i’m under 5ft by a reasonable amount.  i’m an easy target.  i want to be ambiguous.  i want nobody to know that i’m there.  people ONLY CARE ABOUT MY BODY.  it’s almost as if i’ve been stripped of my right to be called human and i’m nothing more than an object.  a puppet.  a toy.  i’m so tired of being dragged around and toyed with.  i’m so tired of being used.

will i ever be human again

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Coping SkillsGeneralStories of Loss

good for nothing

by system
written by system

“please don’t confuse me wanting your body as the only reason I talk to you” – ******, my abuser.

the person who said that to me is the same person who forced me to dig a razor into my face.  the same person who made me carve his name into my thigh.

i am nothing but my body and i have come to accept that.

i am good for nothing.

“i love you for more than just your body”

bullshit.  BULLSHIT.  ****** wasn’t the first to say that.  he was one of many, i say many because ~8 years (excluding ******) worth of abusers isn’t something i can translate into a number.  because i’ve lost count.

the ONLY reason anyone is EVER “interested” (romantically) in me is because of my fucking body.

they use me.  they get bored.  they discard me.

this is why i hide.

 

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GeneralStories of Loss

recollection

by system
written by system

i’m unable to remember much from those years.

those years.

those nine excruciatingly long years of abuse.

there’s no getting that time back.

that time is gone.

those years are gone.  i will never be that young again.

i can’t recall a childhood when it never existed.

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GeneralPoetry & ArtRantsStories of Loss

seldom

by system
written by system

seldom do i ever have a moment where i am free from the pain, free from the trauma that plagues me relentlessly

seldom do i ever have a moment

where i don’t hear your fucking voice, ******.  where i don’t feel empty.  when i escaped from you, i forgot to bring my identity with me.  i have no idea who i am.  you managed to steal me away from myself before i had the chance to run.

you conditioned me to believe that you are the only one who could ever understand someone like me.

who could ever love someone like me.

you conditioned me into forfeiting my right to make my own choices and into handing that responsibility to you.

you turned me into nothing but a pet.

helpless.  hopeless.  incapable.

i have yet to find a way to reform myself into a human being again.

 

******,  do you see what you’ve done?  i know that you do.  you’re probably proud of it, too.  i know that my pain gives you a thrill.  my suffering gives you a rush.

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GeneralPoetry & ArtRantsStories of Loss

self-destructive

by system
written by system

i continue to find myself in the same spot, trying to fight the impulse.  the impulse to cut, to hit, to burn, to bruise- to destroy this vessel.  this vessel that reminds me that i am nothing, that i will never amount to anything.  i am useless.  i am never the first choice.  i am pitied.  i am a puppet.  i am alive so that my suffering may entertain those who induce it.  i am worthless.  i will never be worth anybody’s love.  i will never be enough.  i am nothing and i will always be nothing.

i am defined by my pain and i have lost all parts of myself that render me a “person”

i am a servant to the abuse

i have given up on trying to find someone who will stay, who will not inflict pain, who will not physically and emotionally enslave me.

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GeneralPoetry & ArtRantsStories of Loss

never & always

by system
written by system

i have no energy.  i have given up.  i do not deserve to be loved.  i will never be loved by someone.  i will never be in a safe situation.  i will never be cherished.  i will never be happy.  i will never be unbound.  i will never be kept around.  i will never be anyone’s first priority.  i will always be abandoned.  i will always be pitied.  i will always be the last choice.  i will always be in pain.  i will always be a puppet.  i will always be worthless.

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Coping SkillsGeneralStories of Loss

trying to outrun a relapse

by system
written by system

my day consists of getting stuck in flashbacks and losing track of time.

i am too exhausted to feel anything but misery and dread.

i want to tear open my flesh.

i want to see my own blood.

i want to destroy the place on me that he forced me to carve so that his name is no longer visible.

i want to feel that piece of me torn away.

i want to feel that freedom.

 

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Family & Friends EffectsGeneralStories of Loss

loss (rest easy, jack)

by system
written by system

this morning, i was informed that an old acquaintance from middle school was found unresponsive.  unresponsive as in lifeless.  dead.  to me, that sounds like an OD (purposeful or not, i’m not sure).  i hadn’t spoken to him since 2018, because he graduated junior high and i was still a grade behind him.  it’s a really horrible feeling? being eaten away by shock but being physically unable to cry.  i wasn’t extremely close to him, i didn’t have his phone number or anything like that, but it still hurts.  he always wanted to make people laugh, a class clown by choice.  i’m struggling to register the fact that he’s dead.  it doesn’t feel real.  i wasn’t close enough to him for this to be devastating to me, but i’m really heartbroken about it.  he was about to graduate.  nobody ever had anything bad to say about him.  he always lit up a room with his presence, he always had so much energy.

rest easy, jack.  i hope your departure was painless.

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Coping SkillsGeneralPoetry & ArtRantsStories of LossSuicidal Survivors

recalling torture

by system
written by system

the way my blood ran cold every time you threatened me

the way that the blade felt as i dug it into my flesh to form the letters of your name

the way the candle wax burned as it hit my skin

the way that the acidic feeling in my throat would linger when you made me film myself purging

the way i would try to speak clearly between sobs in those videos you forced me to make, the ones where i apologized to you

the way you talked me out of taking my life in front of you, not out of love, but out of your desire to keep me as a pet

the way you told me that killing myself was selfish, that you needed me to stay

the way i begged you to make the pain stop as i dragged a razor down my face, over and over, while you told me to smile

the way you manipulated me

the way you abused me

the way that i continue to recall those memories against my will,

 

all of it is torture.

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Coping SkillsGeneralRants

switches and memory gaps

by system
written by system

there’s nothing more terrifying than returning to your body only to realize that hours have passed and you can’t remember anything that happened during that time period.  being co-conscious and watching an alter take the front when I’m trying to do something important is the most frustrating shit.  i’m the host.  i don’t like relinquishing control of the front (not like I have a fucking choice) because i am in control the majority of the time.  the worst part is that the particular alter that keeps taking the front is RARELY co-conscious so she literally just jumps in for 20 minutes, has no idea what the fuck is going on, and goes away for however long.

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Coping SkillsGeneralRantsStories of Loss

tactile hallucinations

by system
written by system

don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me

i can feel his hands around my neck he won’t let go he won’t let go he won’t let go

****** im sorry im sorry im sorry

he’s not really here but i can still feel everything

he was never here

******,  how have you found me?  how do you continue to torment me?  i haven’t spoken to you since late september

i will never be able to forget the feeling of a razor being dragged down my face

over. and over. and over.

it still burns.

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