Wednesday, May 31, 2006

You Will Never Understand

I can't explain it.

There are no words for how I feel.

Lost and alone is sugar-coating it.

I feel deserted. Disconnected. Murdered.

I miss my innocence. I miss having a "real" family, whatever that means. I miss waking up and looking forward to the excitements of a new day.

I don't know how to stop the dark thoughts in my head. They are rapidly infesting my mind like a cancer. Maybe I'm a cancer. Maybe my rape is a cancer. Maybe I am too obsessive and too analytical to let it go. Maybe I'm holding onto it because I'm afraid of what will happen to me if I let it go.

I can't believe I just wrote that.


Letting go of the only life I have ever known means starting over... yet again.

How many times must I "start over" in order to "move on"?

I don't know what else needs to change so my heart can gain whatever she needs in order to breathe again.

I am remembering everyone I have unintentionally hurt because I was hurting too much inside.

I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I loved you and let you go because I don't know how to love.

LOVE: Something I see flourishing all around me, yet something so foreign and blinding when I'm standing right in front of it... so I turn around and run the other way. Because the bad is what is normal. It's what I know. It's what I can live with. The good is new and scary. I turn into that little girl that was raped. That little girl who crawled into a hole during her rape. That little girl I abandoned years ago because she wasn't strong enough to fight a few more minutes or yell a little louder.

I know it's not my fault. I know I did everything in my power to prevent what was my fate. Except my heart doesn't feel it. My heart doesn't even feel responsible or guilty. She doesn't feel at all.

She is a newborn caught in a 100 year old body. Everything is disconnected and malfunctioning. Nothing inside of me is working right. Maybe the only way to end this is to end my life forever. I can donate pieces of myself to those in need.

I'm made up of leftovers anyway.

Never fully connecting and matching right to make a whole human being.

Just pieced and scotch-taped together until I fall apart. But the tape starts to wear off from too many tears falling at each seam.

I'm coming undone.

I'm afraid this is it...

I was raped. My best friends have died. My grandma is now dead, the only home my heart has ever known her entire broken and beaten life. And the only thought whirlpooling around my internal tears is:

What's left of a leftover once it falls apart?


Blogger survivor said...

All the little pieces that we have to find ways to put back together.

I understand. I completely understand.

I wish I had something positive to give you, some piece of hope or wisdom to hold on to you...

Sorry my friend

6/01/2006 4:59 AM  
Blogger jumpinginpuddles said...

pieces of me, a poem once written by amelia in here and so very true,
when i look in the mirror waht do i see little pieces of me. We all survive in different ways but we all have different stages and ages for pain and hurting hope and happiness. I dont know when its going to get easier for you or us or anyone i just know we can only but continue to try and find out.

6/01/2006 2:47 PM  
Blogger nikki the red said...

the pieces will come together when they're ready. starting over is so tiring, so defeating. i hear what you're saying. i've been there before. i'm there, again, now. it has been over 6 years for me since the incident, and i feel like i've started over for the millionth time. i do notice, though, that each time, things become a little more clear, a little more understandable. i wish you the best.


6/12/2006 2:43 PM  

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