I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror anymore. regardless of what the scale says; all I see is excess. I can’t stand it. I hate it. I want to rip it off of me. I want it gone. I want to be tiny, minuscule, I want to be so small, so non-existent that no one will even think to hurt me because it will be so obvious that they don’t need to because I do it enough to myself. I want to disappear. I want to fade into the horizon. I want to make no sound, not even a whisper as I fade away.
I just don’t want to exist.
There is too much of me and I can’t handle it all. Maybe if I’m smaller I’d be able to handle myself better because there would be less of me to handle. Maybe if I was smaller other people would be able to handle me because there was less of me to handle.
I’m getting to that dangerous point again. Where I want to be loved and sex means love and there is never enough. I want to feel loved, all the time. I want to enveloped by it. But no matter what I do or who I surround myself with, it can never penetrate my walls enough or for as long as I need. It’s always a split second of sweetness and then it disappears. There is always that whole that remains unfilled and I will never be able to fill it. And I’m not sure how I’m supposed to live with that.
Why couldn’t I just have been born like you wanted me to? Why does my existence bother you so much? What do I have to do to make my existence not a mistake to you? Because I have always been and it seems I will always remain your huge mistake that you wished the universe never had to bare. I just want a family who accepts me and even loves me. But I can never have that. I can have bits and pieces but I can never have the whole thing. because in the end more of my family want me to not exist or not be a burden on the world than those who wish I would stay. What do I have to do to make you love me?
You tried to get rid of me. Send me off to the foster care system. But you didn’t because it would be too much interference in my sisters lives because someone would always be stopping by the house to check on them and to remind you that I exist still. She tried to kill me, beat me, ship me off to god knows where. And you just sat back and watched, like what she was doing was the right thing. You never told her to stop or that was enough or that what she was doing was wrong. You just stood there, just out of my reach and watched as I got bruised and bloodied. Like I was nothing more than an unwanted bad dog.
What did I do that makes my existence so terrible? What did I do to make you hate me so much? I just want to know.
Today after today I will be 2 years cut free. I still have a lot of scars that probably will never fade, but you know what? Who cares. They show my battle and my struggle for self acceptance and for trying to find/make my place in this world. They show that I’m strong for making it this far. They show that I know how to survive. They are a daily reminder of how far I have come and how I never want to look back. They show me how much more comfortable I feel in my skin now. They show so much emotion and rage and sadness. They tell anyone who I care enough to see them the story of my journey so far. I don’t mind having scars forever if it means I have earned my place in this world by fighting to make a place for myself. I am here. I will not be silenced. I will not be forced into the oblivion. I am me and no amount of scarring can change that.
Physical pain from a chronic pain illness is not the pain I want. But it is the pain I have. it is the lack of energy and fatigue that I cannot control. I hate this. I hate myself for not being able to do things. I hate that I have to think if I have the energy to shower today and realize I don’t because then I won’t have the energy to go out later which is the reason I want to shower.
I hate being so helpless and not being able to do anything. I just want to be able to function.
I want to kick and scream and cry. I want to smoke until my lungs hurt and burn. I want to curl up under the searing hot water of a shower and cry my heart out for hours as the water burns the sins and mistakes from my skin. I want to evaporate into the air. I want to curl up under a nice warm blanket and disappear from the world. I don’t want to exist. I want to feel the physical pain of existing instead of the mental torture.
the memories have been plaguing my mind and infiltrating my dreams at night. my sleep is cut short from the fast paced heart beats and the ringing in my ears and the dizzying spin in my head. I can’t think straight because I’m still running. running from everything that I thought I left behind, but can never really be left behind. my memories and past plague me and stalk me. They hunt me down during the best times of my life and wrack their claws through everything, bringing the illusion back down. I can’t scream. My voice is gone. It was taken long ago by people with names unspoken. I can hardly breathe. I can feel their grip on my throat as it gets tighter and tighter and less and less air can escape my lungs. I’m trapped in this ever living loop of horror.