I’ve already had mine kissed. I wish everyone who has scars know how it feels to have someone who loves you kiss your scars, and promising you with their lips, that they’ll never let you do it again.
Our eyes met,
and for some reason I just couldn’t resist you,
I fell fast and so did you.
But then the sweet words you called me turned sour,
the touching wasn’t so gentle anymore,
you left bruises and scars,
but somehow it felt better to go through this pain with you,
I never believed in God,
but I started praying for death,
hoping some greater power could take me out of this misery.
Your mean words became my reality,
and my bruises you left on my body never healed,
they were permanent.
I left you, with swollen eyes and a heavy heart,
never knowing if I would find someone that would make me so miserably happy.
Well, I’ve been bullied for more than 11 years, 8 of them were really worse. It started all at primary school at the age of 4. For the first in my life I went to school. But after a while my classmates didn’t wanted to play with me any more, or I had the ‘not-populair’ role. When we had to play outside, I played usually alone. Not because I didn’t wanted to play with them, but how hard I tried, they didn’t wanted to play with me. This all may seem very innocent to you, but it was the beginning of all the problems I have right now. Every year I had the same class with the same people, and it got worse and worse. From ignoring me till beating me up. Some things they did: beating me up, being against me with 25 people, calling me names (like: fat, ugly, loser, fat pig, ***** and so on, to make clear: I wasn’t fat in that time, I actually had underweight), follow me home, and more terrible things. My teachers didn’t believed me, even not if I showed them my bruises. My parents didn’t knew the situation was this bad, I didn’t told them because I wanted to ease them (they know now for 4 months). At that time I didn’t realized as an 12-years-old girl that this wasn’t normal. After those horrible 8 years I went to secondary school. I thought everything would change, but a friend of my told everyone in the class that I wasn’t a nice person, not kind, not trustful and more things. My classmates believed her and didn’t took the time to know me. The whole story started again, but it wasn’t as bad as before. After 3 years I went to another location (you need to, so my classmates went to) and to another level, so I wouldn’t be in the same class. But still there were some people that teased me in a not flashy way. Nowadays it has been 13 years ago since it all started, and everything still affects me. I’m afraid to go outside or to be in my village, I get really scared if someone trows something towards me, I’m really insecure about myself and my weight, I have constantly flashbacks, nightmares and hyperventilation attacks and more, I’m depressed and suicidal because of it, I cut myself, and a lot more. I don’t think people really do know how bullying affects someone’s life. I really hope the EMDR therapy will start soon (probably in 2 months) and that it’ll help me.
I’ve thought about taking my life so many times. I know some say it’s the cowards way out and that someone always has it worse than me – Truth is, I’m just so fed up. I’m exhausted. It’s like things are so bad I just don’t even feel like getting out of bed. I have great friends but I just have so many emotional issues that even hanging out with them seems like a chore.
I was sexually molested and abused continuously when I was young. I didn’t even know to tell or what to do. My mom found out because there was blood in my underwear. And because of that I have problems with people touching me or getting close to me.
I always had problems making friends in school. They called me ugly, gay and ******. When I was in 7th grade some kids broke into my house through our sliding door and messed up the house and my stepdad beat me up. He punched me in my face and in my stomach and back and other places while cursing me out. He then called the police and they arrested him and took me to the another police car. I had to sit at the police station until my mom got home from work. I was laughing stock of the school. A CPS agent came and took pictures of my bruises. It was embarrassing. I moved away for a year and then came back home and soon after my stepdad accused my mom and I of having sex. He claimed he actually saw us. That really hurt me and I became much more withdrawn and I turned to alcohol to ease my pain. One time my mom got mad and turned over all the furniture, broke the TV, some plates and the christmas tree leaving broken ornaments and glass on the floor for a week. One day my stepdad threatened to get his gun and kill us and said he had a dream he called me over to visit, shot me, then shot my mom then shot himself. This went on for years until I finally moved out but everytime I’d go home to visit my mom he’d say the same thing. I was verry worried for my mom all the time. Then next thing I know my family is accusing me of sleeping with my cousin. I wrecked my car and she let me use hers since we worked at the same job and my family’s first impression is I’m sleeping with her. At the time I was still a virgin and hadn’t been with anyone ever unless you count the molesting. I’m just so exhausted and it’s no matter what I do, the people I love continue to hurt me. My dad never made an attempt to see me, contact me, visit me or anything. The last time I talked to him was because he called to speak with my mom about cutting off the child support. Then he up and died and I never got a chance to meet him. On top of all of that, I have gynecomastia thats very painful. A doctor confirmed I have to get the surgery or do hormones because it’s breast tissue. I can’t exercise it away. Unfortunately, even though I told the insurance company and my doctor confirmed that not only is physical but also emotionally painful, they still wouldn’t cover the surgery so I just have to live with my chest hurting and being chaffed, raw and red unless I can come up with $6500. I just can’t deal with it all.Â I think about just ending it all because those scars are there and they hurt 🙁 I just don’t know what to do. Somedays im ok, then other days im down, but then other days I’m ready to crash my car into a tree or OD on pills. I just want to stop hurting. That’s all. I don’t like people to touch me, I don’t like others to touch me. It’s messing up my personal life. I can’t date anyone bc i get into moods where I don’t want to talk or be around anyone. I just want to be normal. :”'(
I like fighting, as a sport and life I guess.Â I really want it all to end.Â But I can’t bring myself to end it, I really want something out of my control to give me a fight I can’t win for my demise.Â Apparently that’s tougher than it seems, I’ve been hit by 2 cars in 1 week and it left me with little more than some bruises.Â I’ve survived 7 attempts (apparently I’m bad at it) and numerous accidents growing up and I wake up almost astonished that I’m still on the planet.Â I seriously walk around miserable and I can’t do anything about it.Â My girlfriend left me, loves onlyÂ me, cares about me, but doesn’t want to come back.Â It’s one of those things you know soon enough a new guy will be in my place.Â I new girl likes me, and I want to give her a chance but I know my heart, my soulmate, the person I want to be with forever is my ex and she isn’t coming back.Â Have you ever thought about you’re part in the universe?Â Mine is to give and never receive, and hers is to weaken me so life has an easier time killing me.
I want it to end, I want to go down in a disaster, I want to lose.
My life has been so unhappy for the short time I’ve spent here. I was diagnosed with depression and PTSD when I was only sixteen. My high school experience was horrible. I remember starting high school, I was so happy, excited, full of life. I remember one day walking up the stairs talking to a friends and they asked me how I could smile all the time for no reason. I can’t even remember the last time I truly smiled. I had an amazing group of eight girl friends, we had been close since middle school, then everything changed when I started hanging out with other people too. They started calling me a *****, they would corner me in the halls, surround me, scream at me. My facebook, my texts, were full of them calling me names, telling me what a horrible person I was. I started sinking further and further. I made a new friend, a guy a year younger than me, we had gone on a school trip to Costa Rica together, I turned for him for help. He ended up leaving bruises down my arms. I started thinking more and more about suicide. I tried talking to the counselors at my high school, trying to get them to help me stop the daily attacks my ‘friends’ waged on me, but when it’s eight girls against the voice of one no one cares. No one helped me. No one stopped them. I told one of my other friends that I was thinking about killing myself, he told me I should get it over with, that “everyone will be better off without you here, no one wants you here. They’ll be happier without you.” That night I took a bottle of pills. You know you can’t do anything right when you wake up the next morning, you can’t even kill yourself right. So I turned to cutting and burning and some how I made it to graduation. I was hopeful, leaving for college, escaping the pain of high school. I was doing okay, not good, but okay. I was still with my boyfriend of three years. Everything was getting better. I started my second year of college, my boyfriend and I took a break. I was so depressed and sad and alone again. I asked a friend to come drink with me and keep me company while I cried. He took advantage of me. I told him to stop. I’m so tired of being used. Of being hurt by people I trusted. I’m so tired of it all. My boyfriend and I got back together after I told him what happened. That was a year ago. I love my man so much. He left me a week before my 20th birthday, that was two weeks ago. He keeps screaming at me, telling me I’m easy, I’m a slut for that night a year ago. That night I told him to stop. I told him to stop. I told him too late. It’s all my fault. I got drunk. I said no too late. I’ve fought so hard for the man I love, trying to show him I’m sorry. I gave up everything fighting. I gave up a 4.0 GPA. I gave up the idea of getting into vet school and preforming state of the art surgeries. I’m so tired of fighting. I have no fight left in me. I have no friends, I lost the man I have loved for the past four and a half years, I gave up my future fighting for him. I’m so tired of fighting for a life that I hate. I held a gun to my head and pulled the trigger three months ago on one of the night my boyfriend was telling me how easy I am. I’ve only slept with him. And that night, I cant even remember that night anymore my PTSD has gotten so bad. I told him too stop. He did but it was too late. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger waiting for the release, it never came. The gun jammed. You know you are ready to die when a gun jams on you and you reload to try again. My boyfriend woke up though and I hid the gun before I had a chance to pull the trigger. I’m tired of trying. I’m tired of hurting. All I hear is the voices of him, of those girls back in high school, Â telling me that I’m nothing, easy, worthless, failure, better off dead. Maybe they are right. I have nothing left to live for anymore. I want to be done fighting. I want to let go. I have no one. I have nothing. I am nothing.
It’s little old me.
I figured I would continue my story seeing as it has been really weighing me down lately.
So, uhm, yea, here I go…again..
Things continued that way for awhile, but then things got a little worse…or a little better depending how you look at it..
My mother and that guy got into fights, a lot, and very bad fights..
When I close my eyes I the silence, I can still here the shouting, screaming and the faint sirens in the distance..
Anyways, they ended up taking some time a part from one another, that would be good right?
It would have if it would have lasted…
It didn’t last though, I was okay with that though…by now I was used to the way things were, but yet again things had to change.
My mother decided to move, and not just into the same house with this guy, but also about twelve hours away from my one and only friend…I have never been good at making friends..
It was hard to move, but what was even harder was the fear I felt. I knew what this guy was capable of and just the thought of it scared me and still does…I don’t think that fear will ever go away.
It’s not even the violence that scared me the most, it was the psychological things he did to me…he tore me down so much, I still have not bee able to build myself up and it’s been close to elven years…
I must admit though, things were not that bad at the beginning in a new place. It was a little weird and different but at home, things were actually a little peaceful…
I should have known that was too good to be true though…
Too soon, the fighting started up again and I can strictly remember all the hiding I did. Even at a young age. I hid the pain (the physical things like bruises and burns, along with the constant psychological scarring he kept giving me) It was hard to do at such a young age, but it’s now become second nature and it really isn’t that bad.
Anyways, we moved in and out of homes with that guy for a little under two years, until one time when we had no where to go. My mom could not afford to leave but was not happy where she was so she left. We stayed at one of her friends house for a few days, which is then when I moved to my fathers.
I am not one hundred percent sure where my mom ended up as I as not with her, but I would have rather be with her in a house with that guy again than go to my dads.
Why you ask?
I mean, I said it myself, my father’s first wife is the closest thing to a mother that I have ever experienced and tat fact is still true, but it is what is to come that makes me wish I never went to go live with them that time.
I was in grade three at this point and was eight turning nine. I was happy to be out of the situation with my mom, until one day. When again my fantasy was shattered and I was left with the harsh reality.
I came home early from school one day because I just got back from a field trip and my teacher said we could all go home. Now, my school was within walking distance so I just walked home, but I was not prepared for what I was going to find.
I walked into the house and again, those same strange noises, it was a little strange because I knew what these sounds meant and I thought the only person that would be home was my older brother so when I walked down the hall to go knock on his door but looked into my father’s room, I was shocked to see him having sex with someone who was moat definitely not his wife. Thankfully, unlike my mother he just sent me into the backyard so he could get dressed and send the girl home and then we talked. He tried to get me not to tell his wife, but I slipped and I did. I never meant to end the marriage, I just didn’t know what to do, I needed to talk to someone about it, so I did. It just happened to be the wrong person I guess…
I spent most of that day and night outside, crying as I listened to them fight. When the fighting stopped, my father took me for a drive and explained to me that we would be moving into our own house as him and his wife were getting a divorce. Now, I did not know what a divorce was, but I could tell it was a bad and sad thing. I will never forget the look on his ex-wife’s face…it was pure pain and regret. To this day she has been the only parental figure that has actually truly and genuinely cared for e and loved me.
Life with my father was hard, this is when I really started to get depressed. I stopped eating, stopped going to school, I just laid in bed all day and slept my life away. I hated my father at this time, he wrecked my only piece of happiness, and he hated me too, he blames me for wrecking his marriage and I don’t blame him…I blame me too…
This, this is when my father started getting violent, it got really bad…but all too soon he moved across the country to go be with another girl and sent me back to my mother’s house who, was back living with that guy too…
At this point, I had already given up, I was already done and just wanted a way out of this never ending cycle…
I would love to write more of my story tonight, but I had a really bad day and am having a hard enough time writing what have already said, so again, thank you for reading my words.
It’s a cut to the wrist with the bite of my kiss
I don’t mean it baby when I go crazy
There’s really no such thing as control when I lost my hold
Just remember I don’t mean it baby when my heart grows cold
For what I’ve done and I can’t ever change
Just a girl who steps on glass and walks on you all day
I’m not trying to bleed but I don’t try not to
I’m not trying to hurt you but I can’t help you
Welcome to pain, it’s my second face
Can you feel the bruises I’ve inflicted upon you?
Do you see the way I’ve held you down?
Sometimes I scare myself, what if I can’t take back what I’ve done?
What if I can’t erase those scars that could appear if I cross the line?
I’ll be sorryÂ
For what I’ve done and I can’t ever change
Just a girl who steps on glass and walks on you all day
I’m not trying to bleed but I don’t try not to
I’m not trying to hurt you but I can’t help you
Welcome to pain, it’s my second face
Pretty soon I know it can’t last cause perfect never does
Sooner or later you won’t be able to handle the fire I can’t help but aim at you
I don’t mean it baby
I hate it baby
I’m falling back into those pretty good talents
Those ugly bad habits
I’m turning away from the truth so I can pretend I like the lies
I don’t wanna fall baby
So don’t let me fall
Every time I cut you I wanna make it better
I’m trying to understand my sickness
Because you’ll never run from me and my demons
So I used to be sorry
For what I’ve done and I can’t ever change
Just a girl who stepped on glass and walked on you for days
I’m not trying to bleed and for you I refuse to
I’m not trying to hurt you and if I do I will fix you
Welcome to now, it’s the only placeÂ
For all the stupid things we do
For all the times we say ‘I love You’
I’m still sorry for those times
I know they make you cry
But they told me once it didn’t matter what I’ve done
Scars will healÂ
I wish I could get this feeling away from me but suicide pops into my head all day. I’m 21 years old and feel like I have already lived enough. I’m drained. I sit here now typing this in my bed n don’t even have the energy to pick my head up off the pillow. And I did nothing today. Like I do everyday. But suicide seems so nice right now. Like all this stress and sadness gone in a minute. Â But what’s so hard about it is I don’t want to die. When I think about it I just think of my mom n my dad and my brothers. They would be so hurt n I don’t want to hurt them. Â Especially my mom. She’s lived a tough life. she dont deserve that. But I lived through a lot to. And I’m stuck here in this body. Sure I could stay around and keep dragging on, but my existence is then merely to make everyone else happy. I’m the one that is dying inside. The funny thing is I’m one of those people that nobody would ever no hurts as much as I do. When I was younger, like a baby, I was raped. A lot. And when I turned 13 and realized I was gay the only people I could talk to we’re those on the Internet. And I trusted everyone. And so badly wanted a friend and to be loved. That got me raped again. I never told anyone. But I wanted someone to know so badly. I’d cut myself like crazy and write these insane letters to myself that I’d subconsciously leave for people to see but it never worked. Everyone ignored it. And I moved on and was over it. From the time I was 13 till 18 I’ve had like 50 sexual partners. My only time I ever felt good about myself. And now I think about the dirtbags I’ve been with and feel so much shame. Turned 18, met a 35 year old man and moved out. Thought I made the best decision of my life. 3 years later I’m laying here with no money, confidence, no friends, no job, constantly covering up bruises, and just lost. I live with someone who hates me but won’t let me leave him. I just don’t get why my life is like this. I do nothing but help people & treat everyone I meet with respect and love. I don’t abuse drugs or alcohol. When I worked I was an incredible worker. I just wish I got something back for once. If I could count the amount of times I go out daily even just to the grocery store and get horrible attitude I’d run out of numbers. Yet I’m so nice. I just think at this point I’m done. I believe life is mapped out and I think from the time I was born I was setup for failure. I’m so scared to die. I have no idea if ill just disappear. And I don’t want to not exist. I just don’t want to be me anymore.
Jladd here as all of you know and i figured you guys would like to hear my story.
My mom never use to be a drunk or violent. She was once a normal beautiful women who would give you the shirt off her back. But that’s not the case now. I have two brothers and a sister. And then one adopted brother and sister.Â My mother never use to hit me or anything like that but it all started after we moved into our new house and she lost her job. My stepdad was always at work to support us so i never really saw him and was often left alone with my mom. She had gotten mad and got rid of my brothers and sister so they were living at my aunts and other family. Thats when the mental abuse started. Calling me worthless or a fuck-up or i should go cut myself and die. Or thats why my father abandoned me before i was born. I didnt know why she was being so mean or what i did to her. Then the physically beatings started. My mom would chase me down the hall way and slam me against the wall and yell at me or drag me by my hair to my room. Im also afraid of water because she once tried to drowned me in the bathtub and then slammed my head in the bathroom door. I went to the hospital with a concussion. And my mom acted all nice and said i was just playing and hit my head. I was scared to say anything in fear she would hurt me. and one day i went to my grandma with bruises and my grandma found out and said something to my mom about manhandling me. And when i got home my mom beat me to the ground to the point where i was begging her to kill me right there. After all that i started drinking doing drugs and cutting. I lost all my weight from being neglected and became anorexic. At 15 with the weight of 62 pounds. My mom would make me go out and sell her vikidens and norco’s for money to pay rent and support her habbits. Well one day i was caught by a police officer with them and luckily he let me go with a warning and asked me where i got them and i said i stole them from her so she wouldnt get introuble. and when i got home boy did i get it bad. I started cutting more and more and the one person who was suppose to be my bestfriend told people i was cutting and then the bullying started in and i was beat up not only at school but at home being called emo, freak, **** etc. So i made the decision to be homeschooled which was the worst decision i ever made.Â I have scars everywhere and burns.(yes i liked to burn myself) Then along with the suicidal thoughts and i attempted and ended up in a hospital with my stomach being pumped. Then i went to therapy and was put on medication. I had so many fucked up thoughts running through my head and i just wanted to end it all, but i wont because my brothers and sisters need me and id rather be beat on then leave them. This is my story.
Let me live again
Let me dream of how things were
Let life be my grass I walk on
Looking for a place to stay free
(You still did this to me)
Let me be the only thing I dream big dreams for
Let my heart grow strong against love
Where you could never last past the moment
That many men crushed me daily
(You were everything to me)
Ugh, let my hands gently lift my hair
Slowly pulling it back revealing my eye
Black and blue among other colors that leak through
But for some odd reason
I just canâ€™t let go
(Thereâ€™s never been happiness,
Nor real love in this â€œstupid lifeâ€)
Say, who are you that walk through my door?
And who are you that draw me close to you?
I am a young girl, clinging onto my hope
Torn in two by hands of endless hurt
Of beating, bruised, tormented, and confused
Of pampered to fix! Of pampered to a way of being sorry!
Of yelling from you! Of taking the pain!
Of an act of love seen ever so not real
Slapped back for being stupid because you too were there
Yet wonâ€™t admit that you did this to me
I am a young girl who lives in hell
Visual tears tell me nothing more than pain
Yet im the one to blame for this
In the lifeless world where I was still me
Who dreamt a dream so wrong, so long, so true
That even if it was right
In every light and window, in every corner of my room
Thatâ€™s made me stronger than any man
Ugh, im a young girl who has walked alone
In search of a lovely life that was meant to be
For im the one who left to escape you
And your hands, and your ugly lies,
And tore myself free to stand where I can
To build a â€œbetter lifeâ€
Who said it was better? Not you?
Surely not me? The millions of bruises?
The millions of times I was shot down?
The millions of lies that seeped out your lips?
For everything was a dream
And I believed the written words
And I believed the looks
And I believed that we would hang on
The millions of nothings that lingered
Except when it almost died
Ugh let me live again
The time was never meant to beâ€”
And yet must beâ€”so the joke was on me
The joke that you played in my mindâ€”that you existed as everythingâ€”me
Who stood for you.
Whose tears and blood, whose love and pain
Whose heart broke at the blows, whose sorrow left in the rain
Must not have ever been enough
Sure, call me stupidâ€”
The racing of my heart does not tire
From those who live like rats on my life
I must get back to being me
I say it slowly
Let me live again
And yet I swear I cantâ€”
I will soon be!
Out of the walls and shields I build up
The hate and misery, and loneliness, and lies,
I, the young girl, must break free
The time, the heart, the fake smiles, the tears
The pain pilled on top of pilesâ€”
All, all the things ugly must goâ€”
And let me live again
I’m afraid to go to school because all I get is called names over and over again. I get physically bullied too by both guys and girls, and that is not ok! No one ever believes me when I tell them that this is happening. I come home everyday with bruises on me and I usually bleed some times too. I go home to my parents where all they say is get over it. I feel lost and scared.
I was in love with this boy. He had black hair, bright blue eyes, and scars on his arms. He held me in his arms everyday I saw him. He grabbed my hand when he saw hopelessness in my eyes. He kissed me when I felt alone. What else could I have asked for? When we were in bed naked, lying next to each other, he’d kiss the scars on my arms. The bruises on my hands. The burns on my wrist. I was in love, so deep, that I would have never imagined the day to come that he’d no longer want me. Love me. After a year and a half, he broke up with me. He dated his ex-girlfriend. I was broken. Lost. Confused. Angry. Depressed. But the bottom line was was that I would never be who he wanted.
I stopped giving a fuck. I said “I’m done chasing after you, telling you that I love you. I’m done calling you and crying over you. I’m done being angry at everybody because of you. I’m done creating new scars because of you. I was a fucking fool to believe that this was love. I am so done. So fucking done of feeling like second best. Fine, keep her. Go ahead, I hope she breaks your fragile ass heart so you can feel my fucking pain. So you can feel the damn hell I live through everyday. I am not a dumbass anymore. I was just so blinded by this disease called ‘love.’ I was such a fucking fool.”
i found this website by searching for ways to overdose on pills so i decided to make an account to see if it wouldÂ help but, now from reading other posts from people that are around 30 and over that i cant relate to in debt and what not, it just makes me feel even more alone. I’m only 13 and i really shouldn’t be deserving any of the crap i get. I know that people have it worse than me but right now, i should be worrying about boys and whatever a 13 year old girlÂ worries about, i shouldn’t be worry about hiding my scars. Â and i should be reaching comfort from my mother. i know most of you understand what it feels like to have crappy parents but even though i get sooooo much shit from my mom that makes me want to kill myself, but Â i still love her for some unexplained reason. that’s one thing about myself that i hate. i’m too nice to people and i forgive them. and right now i just need someone to relate to.
Today has been better than yesterday was for her. No yelling, no fighting, no hurtful words were propelled at her.
Last night was rough on her. She had to meet her regulars, some nice, some not so much. There was always those men who were very aggressive and since they were paying they felt entitled to anything they wanted. The girl would stop arguing after the first hit, she would stop resisting and let herself float into subspace waiting till it was over. The girl would awaken withÂ noticeably blackÂ bruises up and down her arms, her neck, and down her legs.
She is afraid to go home, she is afraid what is waiting for her there. She wants to leave from school and run away. The only thing stopping her? Julia. Her younger sister. Julia is handicapped with Spina Bifida and is only 11 years old. Julia is her entire world and the only reason why she is still living. She has mothered Julia since she was born, giving her bottles and her medicine, holding her throughout every seizure, taking her to surgeries, being there for her night and day. She is the only ray of sunshine in the girls dark world.
God sent Julia to the girl for a reason. Julia is why the girl has not given up. Julia is the girls Guardian Angel.
I’ve struggled for a very very long time, and since i were young i’ve been depressed..
-Always bullied, abused and threatened..
When i were young up till today I’ve been going trough mental and psychical abuse., At my elementary schools i oftenly got threatened with knives and to be beaten up. A few times they even beat me up, hit me in places people couldn’t see the bruises on, and said If I’d tell anyone they’d cut my throat..
I tried to talk to people about it but always got laughed at and they said I’m just making things up, no one is doing such a thing to me, and when I showed them my bruises, they just said it was from playing and I should stop making up sad stories..
-Always the black sheep, never the hero..
I’ve lived with my parents and older sister untill they divorced and me and my sister were taken along by my mother around the age of 7, to a bad neighbourhood where I got threats and our young kitten of 8 weeks got brutally murdered.
when my mother re-married to a new man, we moved again and not too long after i had a younger brother and sister..
2 more kids who could tell “oh Josh is hurting me :C” and cry at mom and my stepdad.. which resulted me to get punished.
I admit sometimes I did bad things just to get their attention, even if it was being scolded at.. I just wanted to be seen.
but even when I did nothing I got punished over things I hadn’t been near the happening of..
– eventually i did get some friends.. and those friends (in which you are one of them) kept me going for at least a few more years..
’round late elementary /begin highschool I’ve gotten a friend, and the following years a few more. they kept me going all this time, said I were special
that I meant so much to them and we’d always be friends.
they pulled me trough years of heavy abuse at highschool as everyone in the class but those 2 friends hated me. they blackmailed me and beat me up, broke my nose in the first year and this all followed up to the final year..
I had to split ways with those friends after that, and havn’t heard of them ever since.. all my attempts to contact them failed..
-However, I’m still deeply unhappy.. and Im done..
after those years I made new friends who still tell me things will get better but.. I’m done.. I’m tired and unhappy.
I’ve lived my life to this day unhappy and I had enough of it, there isn’t a future for me, because the friends I have now are online.. I sit in my room daily alone, because there isn’t a living being near to take me out and live..
And when i go out on my own, it isn’t of use either..
but I am rather content.. you know, with going away..
I’ll finally be able to get the rest i wanted to take years ago..
Is it so bad of me being done with my life? Wanting to give up and just die..?
I tried for nearly 20 years to get happy.. but I can’t remember when I last was truely happy..
I have always been a lost child in the wonders of how this world work, felt different, alone, unwanted. My perception of life was so different from others to the point I was unsure what the definition of life was… to me life was what we based it on what we create of it, not repetition and constant drills to form us into all similar beings. I never understood peoples fascination with money when I was younger, it was paperâ€¦ why did people fight over it. As I grew I started becoming more frustrated with the world in lack of understanding the point of it all? What makes a single being different? If I died tomorrow, how would that effect the world today?
I started dating a guy when I was 12 (around the time a begun to drink alcohol), seemed like a great guy, and understood me to the point I started to believe there was a point. He adored me, loved me… But I never knew what i was getting into till 4 month later he started punching me in the arms. I was considered a tom boy so I seen it as just a gesture. The bruises started getting more frequent, chipped teeth, black eyes, choking me to the point I was unconscious, this is what healed him in his frustration in understanding purpose, he began to discover control, power, dominants.
He liked it better when I cried, so I decided IÂ wouldn’tÂ cry, IÂ didn’tÂ want to satisfy him anymore, so to back fire on him I would laugh, and laugh when he started kicking my ribs, stomping on my stomach, punching my but only in the jaw so the bruisesÂ wouldn’tÂ show. This would go on for 15 minutes to 2 hours until I finally broke. He was always sorry and every time I forgave him and walked home with a sweater in 40 degree Celsius weather to hide the marks that he placed. The one thing that frustrated me is when the school begun to think I was having family issues when I was 12, I was beginning martial arts at the time so that would be my constant accuses. That all I remember in elementary school was the stories I would make up to conceal the true identity of my love.
When I was 13, my first suicidal attempt started from walk out in front of a train when my abuser ‘saved’ me from the pain the shredded metal ripping through my body, he held me down till the train past. He continuously let me know I was everything to him, the scariest point in my life when he put a knife to my throat and said, ‘if I cant have you, no one can.’ I’m not going to go in detail of those 3 year, I try to block them out every day not necessarily regretting it, sometimes I think I deserved it, its funny how a being can change you center of though and belief all by controlling it. How I see it now? We where 2 hurt souls unable to control are feeling, we just expressed it differently…3 years later i finally free.
At this point i didn’t know right from wrong, i constantly twitched when someone would raise there hand and never looked at men in the face. I was told to go to aÂ CouncillorÂ on multiple occasions because of my behavior, not bad, but unusual. My thoughts were, â€˜what can aÂ CouncillorÂ do other than listen to a story I cannot say, a simple pencil and paper can understand your true colors better at timesÂ becauseÂ life at times can only be understood as several shades of greyâ€™. 3 weeks after we broke up he called me 4 times a day; we had to block his number. I don’t know why I still cared for him.
Later down the road I met my my next savior, he was my everything, he showed me how to love again, how to feel… nothing this good last for long though; he left me for his best friend unfortunately, I didn’t blame him ever though, I was damaged and he helped me see a little life again. After that relationship I felt unwanted, that I didn’t deserve to be here…
I had a great family, my mom gave up a lot of life opportunities for us and doesnâ€™t regret a thing. Sheâ€™s the most amazing women I ever met in my life. My dad, well we had many rough spots in lifeâ€¦ me and him experienced a rough patch in the road and didnâ€™t know how to handle it, after my grandpa/his father past awake, we didnâ€™t know how to cope. We began to have a hatred for each other, called each other names and eventually I could handle it anymore. I moved out to be with my love, this lasted for about a month then I came back. I asked my mom if he asked about me, she said no. from that day forward I no longer called him dad for about a year. I know he hated me, sometimes I think he somehow blames me for the death of his father where I sometime back then I wish it was him and not grandpa. I always thought he was a selfish bastard, thatâ€™s the way it was unfortunately. It still hurts even today. I hope one day he forgives me, love you dad.
Then I left for school and moved about 3 hours away, where I began a new life in misfortune and disappointment. I went to a party and ended up blacking out, I woke up in a bed with someone I knew but not that well. He carried me home and I guess had sex with me. Month later I found out I was pregnant. I cried for about 2 hours. MadeÂ perpetrationÂ to get a abortion right away.2 weeks till the abortion I started feeling different, happy. Like I had a purpose, but IÂ didn’tÂ listen. I got the abortion, never told the dad due to he used meâ€¦ that day I killed part of my life, the best thing I would have had in my life. I killed it. I regret it every day that I killed my own child for my selfish needsâ€¦ since then, my world was held by a stringâ€¦ I hate myself for itâ€¦ I wish i could feel something, i feel nothing now, i feel hopeless, lost. I wish i could go back in time and save my child from my self. Because of this i no longer feel love, hope, happiness… death is a moreÂ suitableÂ option some days more then others. as the days pass faster and faster the option becomes more clear.
Being a science major in high school …..its hard….i cut but i know im anaemic ……i dont eat even i know i may get an ulcer …i pass out at nights because i am so weak yet still i do this every day …
Enough of my confusion….the next poem name is Words.
Scars around your body
Blood flowing from your heart
to your vein through your skin
Splint in two by the red ***
Bruises internally . each word they said
scars your soul to hate this day
Words of regret, Words of mistakes
Words to make you not want to see another day
Knife to your heart, Blade to your soul
The last breath leaves like a soundless echo
A shock bring you back
And then you see, this was all a dream
But now the real nightmare begins.
Hope someone like it 🙂
From a time before I could remember, I’ve been tormented.Â At home, my father would abuse me -not physically, but emotionally and verbally.Â But that hurt more than the real abuse my step-mother would give me on a near-daily basis.Â I was moved from the front of the front of my family’s love, to the basement of our new house, while my stepsister got a real bedroom, with a heater, with a real floor, a real bed, and a window.
Every day I woke up to objects being thrown at me because my new sister didn’t want to touch me -afraid she would catch what I had.Â I wasn’t diseased.Â I wasn’t sick, I promise!Â Is what I would tell her.Â She would laugh at me, and lock my door so I would have to use the back door that was covered in spiders and mud and who knows what else.
I told my father about this the first time it happened.Â He just laughed, calling me a fucking idiot for making up stories about her.Â We were family, act like it.Â So I went to school with bruises and cuts and tears and even broken bones from my stepmother.
No one cared.Â They just laughed and called meÂ names, shoving me down stairs and into corners.
My first friend wasn’t really a friend.Â Sure, she saw the bruises and the pain, but never said anything.Â She just told me it was part of growing up.
This was in third grade.Â I wasn’t that old when I first started hating myself, started crying myself to sleep wishing my knight would rescue me -or even my grandparents, who had told me they would help.Â They never did.
No one ever did.
It wasn’t until highschool that I actually started harming myself.Â I couldn’t cut.Â I can’t stand seeing the sight of my own blood, so I burned.Â 254 burns and ten years later, I’m still burning.
There are burns on top of burns, even some in places I was sure someone would see and hoped they would.Â I needed help, but no one would listen, no one ever would; not when you were the 200lb girl with glasses and dirty clothes that were hand sewn.
It wasn’t until my last year of highschool that the dam finally broke.Â A girl stabbed me in the hall, yelling out “Oh look!Â The stupid dog’s bleeding, better call the vet!”Â afterwords.Â You’d think someone would help, get a teacher or principle, or even stand up to the girl for harming some innocent student.
You ever heard nearly a hundred people laughing at once?
Hey. I’m 14, a freshman, and a survivor. I wanna share my story.
November 28, 2012. This is the day I swallowed 29 Prozac. This is the day I felt so alone, like always, but like I didn’t even deserve to breathe. I felt like I didn’t deserve anything. I was nothing. Worthless. A nobody. I’d lost everything. My mom. My bestfriend. My sanity. And someone took my innocence.
Two days earlier Nov. 26, 2012 I went to hangout with my bestfriend. He was 17. Yes I’m a girl. Yes he’s a boy. Yes we were bestfriends. We’d been that way for a long time. We played Black Ops all the time at his house. I didn’t think he had anything going on for me. So I went down there to play Black Ops like usual. But he had other things in mind. He raped me. And his mom knew it was gonna happen. She opened the door and laughed while he did it. Afterwards I was bloody, sore, and covered in bruises. But that was better than what I was feeling on the inside. A major sense of betrayal washed over me. I felt like I wasn’t even human. I told my mom…she asked me to not speak to her afterwards. I was lost, alone, and I gave up on me 2 long, awful days later. I took what was left in my Prozac prescription and I walked to the park. I swallowed the pills and was ready to die. Wen I woke up I was in a hospital. I came within 20 minutes of my body fully shutting down. An older woman had found me and called 911. She saved my life. I now live with her. But I now face my rapist everyday. And I get bullied. And bullied. And bullied. When will this end? Hopefully soon.
I gave up on me once…and I wanna do it again.