I wanted to disappear from the minds of those who say they love me.
But I can’t seem to find the words.
I want them to hate me moments before they wipe their memory of me.
I need them to go away
But I can’t seem to make the effort to put it into place.
I want to go far away
I just want to disappear
But I can’t seem to find the ability
To turn themvall away.
At the time, dying sounded like a good time. I had it all planned out. Every last detail to the minute to the hour. Everything was to be beautiful.
What I didn’t have planned was the sound of my daughter crying. Her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Pieces I wasn’t there to pick up. My death was supposed to be beautiful. No one was suppose to feel sad just joy.
I wanted the world to be better. I didn’t account for the fact that my mother would lose the ability to speak. I figured she would be ok. But for the first time in her life I see her speechless with no sight of it returning.
My death, so lovingly planned. Everything perfect. Yet, my father, I have never heard him scream so loud. So long had I wanted to see some emotion but now I fear the sound will never end. His screams reach me in my coffin. I believe I will never forget the sound of my father bawling.
A/N for some odd reason this posted as a blank page. So lets see if we can try this again.
I wanted to hurt you
So I wouldn’t be alone
Wanted to make you hate
So I wouldn’t do it on my own
I ignored all the signs
That said you where near your end
In my rush to find a like minded friend
I destroyed what made you good
I just wanted someone beside me
Who would suffer as I did
I didn’t see it as a problem
I felt that, overtime, our pain would solve them
I didn’t see you gasp for help
Was to busy cutting you like everyone else
As you lay bleeding in my image
I felt that we could win this
What a terrible friend was I
To live you alone to die
I just wanter you to suffer
Wanted you like no other
But I never wanted to be alone
Dear Father,
I never really liked my name. As a kid I hated how it meant that I was your child. I felt that the title didn’t explain all that I was in life. Jessica, child of Jesse, a common nobody that not even her father could bring himself to love. As a child I convinced myself that the best thing to do is hate before others had the chance to hate me. I remember the few times of happiness I felt I would instantly try and force it down. I didn’t deserve happiness.
When I was 10 I decided I would give myself 10 more years of life before I killed myself. I decided this after you had yelled at me for one reason or another. I remember holding a mini funeral for myself…my little self.
I killed the part of me that made me Jessica.
Jessica was unloved and unwanted. I thought this would make life easier.
But then came the voices…and the shadows.
I hated being in small spaces. I was fine with animals lurking about but small places like bathroom and closets gave me nightmares. I could feel people staring at me. I could hear people whispering. They wanted to hurt me. They convinced me that you wanted to do the same. I couldn’t trust anyone.
Killing myself did not go as planned but it was to late to go back now.
After while the shadow became that of a little girl. Jessica had came seekimg her revenge. It got to the point where being alone was the only way to keep her at bay. I hating sleeping because she was always there. I had nightmares all the time. I would wake up crying and had to sneak into my sister bed just so I could sleep. She wasnt a huge fan of that so I would often sleep under her bed. People didn’t crawl on me or grab me when I was under her bed. During storms I would sleep under the window. It probably wasn’t the safest places but no one hurt me when it rained but they screamed, oh god did they scream so loud.
When my sister was gone I just didn’t sleep. I begin to fear the dark so stayed up crying or writing or reading. Hurting myself whenever sleep got to close.
I spent my days sleeping or reading because she couldn’t reach me during the day time. She wouldn’t dare… The consequences of my fears made it so people hated me anyways. I couldn’t prove to others that the voices where there. No one else saw the shadows.
After awhile the whispers stopped. They didn’t go away completely but they did stop.
Father, I grew up believing you hated me. This was probably because I hated myself. Even now I do not understand how you can even talk to someome as damaged as me.
I look at my daughter and I pray to whatever god is listening that she doesn’t turn out like me.
As I have aged I no longer fear the dark. Small places comfort me, especially if there is a furbaby to keep me company.
I haven’t told anyone about the voices. No one important anyways. Over the years I have actually denied them being there. But they are here. No longer yelling or whispering but I can feel them judging me. I know what it means to see or hear things.
Dear Father
I really don’t know what to do anymore. I guess I could tell you that I am fucked up but you already know it.
At least, that is what she is telling me.
I am not exactly sure when laughter started to bother me. When I figured a group of people experincing joy made me so sad. All I know that as times change I begin to look at laughter as a bad thing. Their happy smiles meant something was wrong with me. Doesn’t matter that they had been doing it before I even showed up, it was always at my expense.
I begin to hate the sound of people having fun. I begin to see their whispers as reasons to stay indoors. When a friend told a joke it was always about me, even when it wasn’t.
I am not an attractive person. I am not smart, or brave, or funny, or cool. I am everything a person hate. I am someone the world could make fun on for one reason or another.
I can not stand when strangers laugh around me. I always feel as though they are judging me. I fight the urge to run and hide whenever someone close by lets out a giggle. A smirk turns my stomach and makes me die inside.
I do better when I am alone or with my child. She can still hurt me with her giggles but I know that they are not always at my expense. I can be myself with her and she won’t judge me…much.
I hate being myself around others. If I show them someone fake then they can’t really hate me. Sadly, I do not really know the real me. I have no idea who I am so after awhile that doesn’t work either.
I guess it is because I hate myself so much I don’t want to get to know myself.
So I put in different personalities like clothing. There are so many layers that I don’t dare go looking for the core. I think it is because I am afraid of what I will find.
I despise when people laugh at me…or near me. I know it is because I have fucked up in some way.
My daughter is crying in the other room
But I am to scared to go get her
I am afraid of what I will see
A giant figure standing over her
Caressing her whimpers
I am not strong enough to fight it
So I hide
My daughter is crying in her room
But I am to afraid to save her
I know what is standing there
A figure made of bad dreams
Touching her face as she shakes and whispers
A/N when my daughter was a newborn I was often afraid that something would happen to her. I remember watching all these videos about kids dying from SIDs or some other illness. I would constantly wake up and check on her. Doing the finger under the nose check just to make sure she was still breathing.
As she aged I started to have other fears. As I would open her bedroom door to check on her I would suddenly think that someone is standing there waiting.
They wouldn’t harm us but they would sit there. To this very day, and I do mean very, I am still afraid to go and check on her. I have to work myself up to it. I often hear her when she wakes up but I do not move until she comes to my door asking to come in. I stay silent… I know this cowardly but the person in my head is often one who loves her and hates me. To it I am a monster and she must be protected.
I am afraid but I know she will be forever safe.
NIGHTMARE FANTASY 