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.
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.
Hello, so let’s just start this off with a “I should be dead right now” I have no idea why I’m still alive. My girlfriends in the past have cheated on me and my girlfriend now likes someone else and hates me. My family told me to kill myself many times in the past and doesn’t care about me. I’m alone and by myself. I’ve tried many MANY times in the past and failed. Every. Single. Time. The closest I’ve ever come to death is a car accident in 2017 and I was in a 8 month coma. God only KNOWS how I came out of THAT. I should of died right there, on the damn street where I laid. But I didn’t and I’m still confused on why. Can someone explain to me why am I still here? Cause I’m just about done living life.
When I was in the russian supermarket today, the happy disco music which my mother said, was from her youth, didn’t sound so happy to me. Frankly I wasn’t hearing it at all. I was spaced out. I couldn’t believe I was so deeply unhappy with my life and for how unkind people had been all my life towards me. I didn’t even know what I wanted. Cookies, coffee, cinnamon.? I want nothing. I just want these thoughts to stop.
For every friend talking to their important friends or posting something on instagram instead of talking to me. I’m just f*cking done. I was a long time ago but yeah.. can’t even trust your best friends now. Or some stranger’s who put their condescending sh*t on you, just because they’re unhappy about something themselves.
What the hell man, can’t even go grocery shopping without wanting to die. They should honestly just crash into me with their carts, seeing as I’m so painfully invisible to everyone else. Yesterday I had an appointment and I was forgotten. They didn’t tell me anything and put the blame on me too.! Humans are nasty.
I haven’t posted on here in a while, because of three people I’m trying to avoid, that I got in touch with out of SP. In case you read this: Sorry to you two, but the third person I’m not sorry for, considering they haven’t even apologized for ghosting me. So yeah, this is that. I really need something else than the pain on my mind.
****** im so sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry. im sorry for ******* *** **. please don’t get **** ** ******. i broke my promise to ******* ***. i couldn’t ******* **** either. im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry
why am i sorry
why am i apologizing
to the person who destroyed me
what the fuck is wrong with me?
you did unspeakable things to me. things i will never be able to forget or erase from this body. i still have the scars, your name included. i still have the wax burns.
i love you but i fucking hate your guts. you’ve taken everything from me yet your manipulation lingers and deep down, I can’t get rid of that slave-like loyalty i have for you. i can’t get rid of the feelings. they conflict with my hatred for you. my contempt. my rage. im completely broken.
I loath myself and the existence I am in. I don’t fit in. I’m hideous. I’m a loser. I try to help others, I try to learn what I do that makes people hate me so much. I’m just an outsider. I’m just a freak. I have so much rage and pain. I don’t know where it truly comes from. I don’t know why I can’t forgive the people who hurt me, even so many years later. Why do I obsess? Why was I even born?
my fa ult myfault my fault myfaultmyfaultmyfault my fa ult myfault my fault my fault my faultmy fault myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault
his name is censored and the lines have been recolored for safety reasons. i’m a minor. please don’t sexualize any of this. please. this is vent art that I made during the time I was being abused. everything written was taken straight from voice memos, emails, and messages.
edit: how many times do i have to reiterate that this wasn’t a relationship. leave me alone. please.
that uneasy something-is-about-to-happen feeling grabs me by the throat,
“all of them are the same. all of them are the same. trust no one.”
i can’t look adult men in the eyes. i can’t stand within arms reach of them. i can’t have a one-on-one conversation with them. i can’t ask anything of them, even if it’s something as simple as asking for directions. i can’t trust them.
it fills me with guilt. i don’t want to fear them. i can’t control it. i’m even wary of family members (not immediate).
i can’t undo the years of trauma, i can’t erase it. i was abused at an early age and it continued for 9 years.
i hate feeling at fault for a phobia that I lack control over.
it doesn’t get any less unsettling. it’s just as disturbing as the first time i experienced it.
hands. hands that aren’t there. gripping my neck, my shoulders, my face.
the feeling of someone standing directly behind me. i feel their breath on the back of my neck. i can feel their eyes on me, an unforgiving gaze.
but there’s nobody there. nobody is ever there.
sometimes, things he said replay faintly. but there is no noise. the room is quiet. i am alone.
but he’s still here, watching me. suffocating me. controlling me.
he still, in some way, has managed to lay his hands on me. he never did, he was too far away. but he still exists in my mind as i live in perpetual fear of him coming for me. my hallucinations now mimic what i fear the most. i am tormented by things that aren’t really there.
To me, “faith” implies optimism, I suppose. I have faith that drivers will yield right of way to me as I cross a street. I have faith the captain of an airliner will keep me safe. I’m optimistic these outcomes will be positive.
I’m sitting in church right now. Catholic church. There’s a ritual called adoration that’s taking place as I type this. The priest places an edible wafer into a shiny gold display medium, called a monstrance. He sets it on the altar, facing the parishioners, where it sits for a few hours, allowing the faithful to sit in the presence of “god.” Here’s a pic.
Pretty snazzy. If I was the creator of the universe, an undefinable mystery that has baffled human minds for thousands of years, I could hang out in here while hungry worshippers dreamt of eating me.
The wafer, in the Catholic tradition, is the actual body of Jesus, which good catholics eat at mass in order to be one with him. There are at least thirty people in church right now, adoring this wafer as they bask in the presence of the creator of all that is.
Here I sit, part of this…why?
My “faith” isn’t what it once was. For decades, I accepted what I was told, that “god ” required conformity and submission, and certain punishment awaited those who doubted and disobeyed. Optimism – the faithful believe their adoration and adherence will result in eternal reward. Cry out to “god”, and he will help you.
My concept of “god” is so different anymore. More of an agnostic, I believe there is or was an intelligence involved in the creation of all that is, and we are too stupid to understand it. So we write stories about it, about “god”, and we live within those stories in order to exclude and label those who are different from us. These stories are our exclusive little clubs, and their rituals are the bylaws that order them. And they are all just so much damn rubbish.
Faith is optimism. Reality is…what? A mix of optimism and pessimism? I don’t know.
I only see what I see anymore. War, chaos, anger, hate, division, happiness, rainbows and kittens, sadness grief and misery, acid rain and corpses, smiling children, hopeful parents, corrupt politicians and deceitful evangelists all hell bent on agendas. I see a species of hairless human apes making a fucking mess of their planet, and now slowly expanding their distinguishing characteristic of excessive garbage and detritus into space, as our collection of space junk grows by the year. We are a bunch of selfish pigs, we are a bunch of caring, kind souls, we lend one another a hand, we strike each other down in the name of skin color and various religious and secular ideologies, all while attempting to define and characterize “god” based on the limited abilities of our narrow and only slightly-above-simian minds.
I suppose that’s the best we have to offer.
I’ve had to redefine my “god.” Whatever it is, if it even exists, if it’s responsible for “all that is”, it’s clearly ok with sitting by as we run around like imbeciles creating our own misery through our petty prejudices and hatred. It could give a rats ass about your suffering, it could care less whether you prosper and enjoy life, or sleep under a bridge wearing filthy clothes covered in lice. It watches as presidents and politicians cheat and steal, and it watches as charity workers bathe the sick and dying in third world countries. It watches as generals direct armies to maim, kill and destroy. It watches as doctors open skulls and repair intricate human brains, restoring function. It watches as we do the only thing we know to do in our abundance of short sightedness, and it doesn’t involve itself – “god”, whatever it is, sits and allows universal life to play out according to the rules that govern it, and those rules mean suffering and prosperity to varying degrees for all of us.
To have faith that “god” is walking with you is…optimistic. For many, it is to key to survival. I don’t mean to disparage the faithful. For all I know, what I think and believe is absolutely incorrect. Who am I to define “god?” I’m just one of all of us, with my opinion…but the “god” I conceive of remains the fuzziest enigma ever presented to me. I have no idea what or who or how it might be, if it even is. The stories we create are nothing more than cultural conjecture. They don’t explain anything real – they just mean to convey hope, create structure, allow for judgment and control through fear of eternal punishment, while fueling exclusion, hate, and division. And they’re a good front for Saturday bingo and other forms of fellowship.
Yeah. Here I sit, in St. Vincent’s church, looking at a wafer in a monstrance that is believed to be the flesh of the creator of the universe. “God’s” body, conveniently packaged for my dining pleasure. I come here to feel a connection to something outside myself, in the hopes that I will find meaning. The teachings of catholicism, the dogmas and concepts are meaningless to me. Mere words written by generations of curious cousins of chimpanzees, hell bent on determining origin, reason, destination. I’m no different than the faithful who are gazing at this edible wafer and imploring it to deliver them from all manner of suffering and bless all their loved ones. I’m no different at all. I’m hopeful that my misery has meaning. I’m hopeful that I can find peace of some kind. I’m scared, lonely, angry, sad, depressed…and I’d sure like to believe that somewhere, in a distant place far above the limits of the universe some omnipotent thing-a-ma-jigger had my back. That “god”, the myth, the legend, gave a shit about me.
But all I see as I look around this planet leads me to belive I’m just being overly optimistic – if there’s a “plan”, there is no denying it is meant to involve suffering. Lots and lots of it. Yup. We’re here to have good days and bad days, to smile and cry. Our pain is our own, we must bear it alone, sure there’s relief in fellowhip, but there’s death in life too. It’s just part of the plan, like it or not. I have questions, we all do…and I see no clear answers, dreamers. None.
Now, go in peace to love and serve your “god.” Refreshments will be served in the parish hall, and don’t forget bingo on Saturday at 4 pm. A-freakin’-men.
“I’m sorry if I’m too pushy sometimes : ( I’m bad at showing my feelings, I’m sure you’ve noticed. but I truly do love you & it did really hurt when you said those things about no one being able to love you…. I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times over, but that’s just not true. you’re pretty & vvvvv lovable you stupid.”
you never loved me. never. you never did. you lied to me. ******, why did you do this to me?
you would always tell me “this is the last time i’ll make you do anything like this”
but it was never the last time, was it? it was never the last carving, never the last burn, it was never the last time.
i hate you. i hate you i hate you i hate you.
fuck you, ******. i love you, but a version of you that doesn’t exist. i love the person you pretended to be.
i am the burden of this household. the post-traumatic, dysfunctional, irritable, dissociative, depressing burden of my family.
“Ours were false relationships from the very beginning in which we were targeted, exploited and betrayed.”
– Donna Anderson, LoveFraud
Well. Glad I got that out. I feel much better.
“I will xoxo. I hope someday you’ll truly realize how much I love you, how much I care for you & how I’ll never do anything to bring you harm ever again. your body is just so perfect to me, I adore your personality & the way you feel for me & love me makes me wanna break down. please don’t confuse me wanting your body, as the only reason I talk to you.”
oh, trust me, I fucking know that’s not the only reason you talked to me. you spoke to me because you wanted to keep me wrapped around your finger. you spoke to me because i was your plaything. you spoke to me because torturing me and seeing how i would still say “i love you” after you reduced me to nothing gave you a sick kind of thrill. you spoke to me because you are a psychopath and i am an easy target. i am emotionally vulnerable. i was already an abuse victim before you came into the picture. eight years, ******. eight years of abuse, and you made it nine. i lost the majority of my childhood to violent, manipulative child predators. you knew that. because the moment i realized the kind of situation i was in, i tried to guilt you into leaving me alone. it didn’t work. you were everything to me. you were my entire world, but you took every bit of life out of me.
internal dialogue, 9:00 PM
fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you ****** i hate you
i wish i was DEAD
you fucking plague me every single day, i can’t sleep without seeing your face in my nightmares.
you lied to me
you lied you lied you lied you lied you lied
i’m terrified of you to the point that my brain has confused it for love. i love you, ******. i hope you die.
“the thought of what I did to you, it tore me up inside. you didn’t deserve that, no one does. thinking of how happy you made me, how miserable I made you feel at times. how could you forgive me? please don’t confuse me as ungrateful, I love you. how could I not? I hate to be an echo chamber of words whispered into your ear a million times over, but you’re worth it. your smile that could melt away the stars, so bright, filling others with pure bliss. your soft spoken words, it’s as if the wind carries your words & dance to the sound of your voice. how could you not be infatuated when merely looking into a puddle at your own reflection. how can you be so blind? I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”
why did you discard me? why am I upset that you discarded me? why do I miss you?
after everything you’ve done to me, why do I miss you?
“at times”…. you tortured me. You forced me to dig a razor into my face and when you saw the video of me doing so while crying and begging for you to make the pain stop, you told me “please smile”
and i did. for you.
i really hate you, ******
yet I still remain your property, like branded livestock.
you lied you lied you lied you lied you LIED.
liar liar liar liar liar LIAR
YOU WERE AND CONTINUE TO BE THE SOURCE OF MY PAIN, I FEEL SO ALONE WITHOUT YOU AND I HATE MYSELF FOR IT. YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME.
I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I WISH I NEVER MET YOU
****** I HOPE YOU FULLY UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME. what the fuck am I even saying, OF COURSE YOU DO AND YOU PROBABLY SMILE AT THE THOUGHT. YOU SADISTIC PIECE OF SHIT.
“Hey dudes I’m afraid I’ll hurt people if I leave”.
Really? Come on dude. You’d have to have pretty low emotional intelligence to honestly ask yourselves this question. Can we be honest here? Completely honest? How many of you actually think this? How many of you are just using this an excuse, a cover-up not to leave? Bargaining by saying these people will be “hurt” if you leave and they’ll miss you lmao. Or pretending that you care HAHA! What kind of reasoning is this? How do you have so much trouble with a simple matter of discretion?
I can’t imagine many of us have people in our lives who actually make a quantitative difference for this to matter. It’s part of how we got here. Does anybody really care about us? Of those who can actually say yes, are there enough people for it to matter? And/or of those people, does your death have a truly significant effect on their life or lives? Haha no, probably not. If you had rich fulfilling lives, you wouldn’t BE here. Right? And boo hoo. A bunch of NPC’s who couldn’t care less about your life now suddenly care about your death? Because it effects them NOT because they care about you -personally-. But just because, someone died, and therefore they are cognizant of the omnipresent tragedy of death in their community, at their doorstep, and haunting their every breath… Something like that, I’m sure. Why are people sad when people die? Death ain’t that bad. Not every death is a tragedy. Can you imagine? It’s what EXPECT to happen from the moment we are born. Everybody knows nobody lives forever. So why do we act shocked? I’m not going to get into philosophy my point is, I’m tired of seeing this stupid fucking question popping up on this site every damn week..
And imagine actually having that unhealthy a mindset. I OWE them something. Haha. What messy, twisted emotions must you have to… Just, forget about it. I’m just tired of feeling like I’m getting brain damage whenever people even humor this question.
i’m tempted to do it; to take a butcher’s knife and just cut off the flesh in which his name is engraved. i would take back my power and erase him from me. this vessel is no longer mine. i want to tear off my skin. i feel ashamed and disgusting to have ever been in his control. i have not yet figured out how to un-train myself to sit, stay, and lay down. the fear is embedded in my soul and my entire being.
i’m tempted to do it, if i’m lucky i might just bleed out
I can’t take it
i can’t I can’t i can’t
get out of my head
get out of my head
get OUT OF MY HEAD
I hate him
why did he do this to me?? why did he make me do all those things?? i want to tear my flesh open my skin is fucikgin crawling
I HATE YOU ****** you took EVERYTHING FROM ME
YOU TURNED MY 8 YEARS OF ABUSE INTO 9. THIS BODY IS NO LONGER MINE, YOUR NAME IS ENGRAVED IN IT.
im at my fucking breaking point. i’m VERY close to making an extremely irreversible impulsive decision. would that make you happy, ******???? oh wait, you tried to STOP ME FROM IT AFTER YOU MADE ME SLICE MY FACE OPEN. GOD FORBID THAT YOUR PRECIOUS SACRIFICIAL LAMB C O M M I T S S U I C I D E! then who will you have to torture and destroy???
im in so much pain please make it stop
I have been both depressed and mentally ill for as long as I can remember. Despite this, I have managed in my late 20’s to have a stable career, a place of my own, and even decent bonds with friends. On the surface I have “made it” or at least I should feel that way, yet I still want to end my life every single day.
I wake up to go to work, a job I actually like doing and pays well, and yet I look myself in the eye and think “Why am I even bothering?” Every day feels about the same: wake up, work for 12 hours, go home, maybe play a video game, sleep. On a day off I’ll try to hang out with a friend but that’s not too common and I usually have to clean my living space on those off days as well.
I know, I’m such an awful human to feel this way despite having what some wish they could have, kinda makes me feel even worse than I already feel. But life just feels so empty, cold, and sterile.
I’ve become jaded over the years to this suicidal feeling, never enough to want to pull it off (barring a few bad days I had a few months ago) but never gone, like a tiny splinter in my toe.