I have waking nightmares.
Voices in my head
People wondering why I am not already dead
They ask me as a favor
To give up before I am able
I can give them all my excuses
But we all know it will be useless
I wasn’t made for this
And they know it
I ignore them
These horrendous voices
I pretend that they aren’t there
Impression in the wind
Hopefully one day they will end
In my head knowing they will one day win.
I do not hear voices I hear impressions. Emotions without words. I can feel it all bubbling behind my eyes. I don’t see figures but I get the sense that someone is watching me. I can feel them follow me. I can there eyes and every blink they make is registered in my mind.
I do not see or hear people. I never have but how do I explain what I do go through. How do I tell people about my pain? They will judge me harshly and think I am lying. They will take away my daughter and tell me that I am unfit to be her mother. How do I show them that she is the only person in this world I care for. That even as I am fading she is thriving. I give all my enegery to her. Yes, I am dying. Not in the way others may think but in a way that says my body is deteriorating along with my mind. The illness I suffer from is in my head…not in a way that makes it unreal but in a way that shows that it is unseen. I am dying slowly and she is the only thread keeping me intacted. Without her I will die all the sooner.
But how do I ask for help without the world trying to kill me faster?
I wanted Jesus to save me
Needed to feel Gods love
Wrapped around me fully
I needed to know in him I could trust
But then I was discarded without a hint of remorse
It was all my fault you see
To young to fight back
Yet old enough to bleed
Taken in a shady place
Beside some holy trees
Right where God wanted me
Torn up knees and a bloody dress
This is where his holiness wanted me best
I was told to pray
That in time
All would be ok
Again I was broken
Yet I was suppose to forgive and forget
Focus on better days
Maybe it was because I was wicked
Maybe it was because I sinned
Is that why this man was let in?
Did I deserve to be torn
Ripped by someone so loved
Was I so disgusting that I needed to be dirtied up?
I prayed to God daily
And asked him for help
Never gave up on faith
Even faith had given up
Just dusted my knees once he was done
Smiled brightly with my bloody dress
And promptly walked away.
At least…that is the story I will like to tell
I rather not tell the one where I am buring in hell
Every day is a struggle
Every day is war
Every day I am reminded that I was once forced to be a whore
By the grace of God I was tainted
Yet I will pretend I am alright
Cause telling the truth is worse than a lie.
The language of a liar has always been good to me.
Recently I have discovered something about myself. I love Chaos…well…not really. I guess what I really love is the idea of chaos. I am the type of person who sits and thinks of all the dark and twisted things that go on in the world and wish it would happen to me.
I am the type to romanticize a kidnapping. When reading books I often wonder why no one falls in love with the villain. I mean sure he is evil but he isn’t evil to you.
There was a movie I watched many years ago where a guy kidnapped a girl and a women in hopes of turning them into a family. At the end they get away from him but I remember being 7 or 8years old and mad at them for doing that. All he wanted was a family. He took care of them. Sure he was a little angry and did some shady stuff but he never hurt them. They should have just stayed and listened.
As an adult I learned that this type of stuff is wrong but I am still drawn to those types of characters in books and movies.
But..when it comes to actual life, I try and stay away from people like that. I am still attracted to dominate people but there if a difference between that and just plain crazy. If a guy yells at me in anger it is over. I lose my shit and will yell at him back. I have been with some guys who liked having control and I don’t mind giving it. But I am truly submissive and will fight anything I do not agree with. I have broken up wirh people because of stupid, controling, and manipulative stuff they have tried to do.
So why in the world am I drawn to these types of stories? Why do I find myself angry with people who don’t stay with the obviously toxic people?
I honestly can’t answer this but it is something that has always bothered me.
Daily a friend or loved one will message me about the problems going on in their life. I always sit and listen and give advice when needed. Sometimes they just need me to be silent and others they need my anger. Sometimes my tears or enough and others they just need my love. I hear all these stories and yet I am afraid to tell my own.
I am not a liar in a way people would think it. I do not really know I am lying till I am doing it. It isn’t big lies really but small ones. I can never give a straight answer to basic questions.
If asked how I am, I will always say “I’m ok”
If asked how my day was, I will always say
“It was fine, could have been better, but still fine”
I am afraid to show my true self.
I guess cause I don’t want to burden them with my problems. Or maybe it is cause in the past I was always ignored in favor of their problems. I am not sure.
What makes me a hypocrite though is the fact that I can not take my own advice. I ask them to come to me with anything but do not do the same to them. I give them all my emotion but refuse to express it till it is to late. I hurt and hide but get mad when they do the same. I am the biggest hypocrite yet I do not see myself changing any time soon.
I can see her body floating as I close my eyes. I can see her hurting in every way imaginable as I stand by unable to do a thing. Sometimes I am dying and sometimes I am not. Either way I am always out of reach. I put my hand towards her, grasping, for just a touch. But I never make it, not in time anyways. I watch the light fade from her eyes. I watch as her beautiful smile twist into a look of pain.
This is my everyday nightmare.
As I close my eyes I see her dying. I see her suffering in unimaginable ways. I can’t do anything but watch. Either dead or alive I am always reaching for her.
This is my everyday. When I try to talk to people about it they just call me paranoid or don’t understand.
I can’t sleep unless she is beside me but there are days when that makes it worse. I take every pill the doctor gives me. Say my prayers before bed. Yet nothing is working.
I can see her hurting and I can’t make it stop.
Every day my daughter dies and I know it is all my fault.