for seven years i believed that i had no right to say
that i had been abused because it wasn't physical,
like my friend who was beat by her drunk father on
a daily basis.

my abuse was only on an emotional, psychological scale
and while sometimes his hand slipped or gripped too tight on me,
i honestly wouldn't count it as abuse.

recently i began reading into this and while it's not
as talked about as physical or ****** abuse it still counts
and it carries over as children grow up from these experiences.

even experiences that i didn't think counted as emotional abuse,
from times when i was far younger than just a teenager.

the abuse i've dealt with hasn't made me any stronger than i was,
it's made me the exact opposite;
instead of being the person i was before, bright and optimistic,
i'm apologizing constantly for things i don't need to and
second guessing myself and others intentions.

constantly i wonder if i'm bothering someone,
am i being too much of myself? am i allowed to speak?
does my opinion matter? is it all right to assert myself?

after being told for three years that i don't matter,
and there is no point of me for existing and that
it's no wonder i don't have any friends,
i'm trying to break myself out of the box i've placed myself in
and it's so **** hard.

i'm not sure when it started but i think
it began about eight years ago and since then
i've had quite the struggle dealing with it.

maybe it was the divorce,
the break up, the abuse,
being abandoned by my mother
and friends

or maybe i just snapped inside
and all the liquid began to ooze over
filling up all of the negative space
inside my brain.
sticky black tar growing thorny
flowers full of doubt.

been having those bad days lately;
either i binge and crave attention,
or i spend all day sleeping not even bothering
to feed myself.
reading or lying on the floor in a
pool of my own self-loathing or
drinking excessively and crying.

sure i want help, i want to get better,
i'm aware of my own disease even though
i tell myself that it's all right and i'm not that bad
because i'm not like that person and i'm not
making any attempts on my life right now
even though i spend a lot of my time thinking
about it.

sure i want to get better, but i think life
would be more terrifying without this
disability, this burden, constantly weighing
itself down on my shoulders.

who would i be if my heart was fine?

constantly at the back of my mind
the idea is there, whispering to me when
my mind is idle.
telling me that it's still possible.
you can still do it.
no one will find you either,
they wouldn't even think or wonder
where you are.
they'll knock on your door and
when there's no answer they'll
be curious and when
they find you, they
never would have expected it.

so why don't i just do it?
crying, my heart aches.
empty, numb, unmotivated,
and when i'm high i'm really
******* high and on cloud nine
but i crash so hard that i can't
handle this reality even though
i've got the good life.

i'm still so unhappy,
and i don't know how to get happy
and this bottle isn't helping.

spent the week in town, expecting to hear from loved ones
only to be reminded there aren't many left.
arrive looking my best to the show to
meet her and remember fond times just to
leave and spend the night with the bottle.

he didn't even show up to my
military graduation, and he didn't
even show up to my high school graduation,
and he didn't show up to
any events when i was a child, and
he wasn't there for my birth.

how many more chances am i going
to give to a man that doesn't put forth
any effort to be involved with his
only daughter, and how much more
of myself am i going to put out there
to be hurt and disappointed?

not sure why i get offended
when i find out i wasn't invited to a social event
because i know, i'll always politely decline.

my father is the worst sort of person.
he is the kind of person that will
make you feel loved, important, and
part of the family. he'll show you off
to friends and extended family like
a trophy and you will feel amazing.
the minute you step out of line, and
your perfection disappears, and humanity
shows, my father will abandon you,
strip your titles from you, tell you are
worth nothing and he'd rather see his own
daughter become homeless than let her
stay on his couch for eight weeks.
he has never been a father, he has been
a man that is willing to pay for things
once in a while if it will benefit him
but he will not take any blame and
he will not try to grow and he
will not love you unconditionally.
he will never be your father, and he
will never care and i have come to
accept that.