This is the place I rant about life's heartaches when I feel I can't say it anywhere else. My voice is buried beneath shadows, but I feel someday what I have to say might mean something to someone...

Monday, April 12, 2010

I might as well admit it...

Though some of this is a bit TMI... definitely PG-13...
My Twitter rant from one of the biggest panic attacks I have had in a while put into blog form:

(Note: Thursday marks the one year anniversary of when an 18 year old named Mark violently raped me).



I really just want to cry today. I cried this morning. But again, I haven't been able to cry since. I just feel dull, numb... Dying. Physically & emotionally.
I need someone to hold me right now. But who would want to hold this mess?
I want this rain to wash me away....

OK... I will be honest... innocents turn away...
I want sex. But I want the kind of sex that means something. Not a joke, not a tease... I want to be able to look into someone's eyes and know that for that moment at least, he wants me and me and me alone.
I want to get these images of violence out of my head.... 4 days until the anniversary of what Mark did to me...
I want to feel LOVED dammit! And whatever anyone says, sex is PART of love- or it's SUPPOSED to be. I've HAD that! But I always lose it...
I always just end up with this darkness in me....
"Old, alone, done for... worthless, useless... unloved... used... betrayed"...the words wont stop echoing...
I need to eat, but food was only appealing for about 5 minutes...I can't concentrate enough to finish editing my story, do my hw, clean the house, pay my bills... I'm just a shell right now. I dont know why and I just hate it... I want to scream, to cry... and have someone hold me as I do, then wipe my tears away and make me forget the nightmare of my life ever happened.
But as usual, it's me, this hell-hole... and rain pouring outside my window.
And tons of men begging me to let them use my body. It is both what I want and not... because what I had was missing. I want them to shut up. Stop asking when I'm coming over again... and to shut up that voice... so that I can be whole again.

Does anyone even remember what I used to be like? Is that why you stick by me? Are you, too, waiting with me, hoping desperately that who I was before will come back to stay?
Why does anyone stay? And why didn't I succeed January 1?
How many have I loved thoroughly and truly? How many have truly loved me back? I will probably never know...
I guess I should just be happy that I ever had a moment. On one hand those moments make lie worth living. On the other... them being gone makes life 1 million times worse... about THIS I am lost...
It's the part of me that knows I was made for more... but says I will never find more here... and begs me to leave here because it doesnt know how much more void it can take.
I'm always told "in another life"... So let's hope re-incarnation is real...

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