I just read a book. I learned that humans are animals. Animals with a bit of enhances features, like memory. He never remembered everything he put me through. He abused me and lied to me on purpose, but it also wasn't on purpose. He didn't care that I was 14. He probably forgot. He already blocks tons of other **** out his mind. Some random black girl was no different. I don't really feel like I ever meant much to anyone. Now that I know the truth about men, was he really conscious? Was he really conscious and deliberate, when he lied to me, and manipulated me, and took advantage of me? Or was it just another day, to black out afterwards? To black out after I was yet again blocked.
Humans have memories. I've (not on purpose) trained my mind to remember every negative thing that happened to me. I remember it all. I remember the crying, posting tons of poems screaming at him, wishing he would come back. The grief and mourning, the loss. I have a "big picture" kind of memory, details are blurry, but they are there. It's as if I remember things in distant screenshots. Visible but not visible at the same time.
What is human nature?
It irritated you when I kept reaching out. When I kept coming back. You didn't seem to react to me wanting you to love me. To the crashing out. To the mood swings. You made crude comments and responses. Always ******. You never reacted. You never seemed to care. Your apologies are fake. You never change. You ruined my life.
Does no one notice that I stay in my room all day? They didn't care when I started failing school. I usually don't have an expression on my face. I don't go outside much sometimes. I'm always monotone, like that's not ******* normal, considering all I've been through. You think I'm monotone on ******* purpose? *******
I guess it changed you when you did read all my "poems," all just a cry for help. Just screaming. Just angry and miserable all the time. It was all building up within me. I had no friends. I had no one. All I knew is that you ruined my life and I hated you. It burned inside of me. I still remember everything. I don't know how I could forget. Maybe if I forgot, I would be ******* happy.
I'm lost. I have mood swings. I have borderline personality disorder. Sometimes I'm happy. My *** is bad. I get suicidal during ***. But my period is fine.
Most of the time I'm disconnected from my body. Sometimes I want to take over you. To just make you mine. Most of the time I'm stuck in la-la land. Fantasizing about love. Other times, like now, I snap back to reality. That the world is dark and cruel and there is no love. That I'm stuck in my parents house and don't have a job. That I can't change the past. I can't do anything about all those men who abused me. I can't do ****. It just floats around inside my ******* head.
Life is alone. Life is silent. All people can say is "I'm sorry." Because that's all they can ******* be. Just sorry. Just pitying me and looking down on me. Congratulating me for being "strong," like that means anything. Everyone just makes me feel angry.
Life is silent. It doesn't give a ****. God is dead. He won't save us. He won't save me. He'll just throw me little gifts here and there to distract me from my pain. But he won't solve anything. I'll just wait 30 years for karma to hit them. I'm supposed to be happy with that ****.
I don't like being around men. I constantly avoid them in public, unless it's a guy I like. I don't trust people. I always assume they have a malicious intent. I read every action. Pay attention to words. To their eyes. I just want to shove my face into a grater. I don't wanna attract anyone or be pretty. I want to look how I look on the inside: ugly and broken and unlovable.
I can't get into a relationship anymore. Everything just hurts. They all break my heart, and labels are foggy. *** is me just being used. I can't have anyone I want. I busy myself with work. I am sad. I feel worthless. I wish I were dead. Instead of having to live amongst a bunch of weird animals.
But I don't want to be a persona. Or an alternate. I kind of want to have my own name I was given. I want to be myself again. It is scary, anxiety inducing, like I'm constantly being stalked.
But I want to be me.
And just like an animal, It's normal. I avoid men. I stay alone. I don't date. I'm never having ***. Animals stay away from things that cause them pain. Animals bury it down deep and focus on the next thing. Animals don't live. They survive.