Is it **** if you don't put up a fight or scream?
But you said stop,
and they didn't.
But you drank...
you were helpless and terrified.

"It was your choice", they say so heartlessly.
It was not.
"You never tried to escape", they say to me with disgust.
Their words destroy me inside.
I stood no chance against them, and I knew it.

Is it **** if you obeyed?
You wanted so badly to run but your body
wouldn't move
frozen with fear you remembered.
"Why didn't you scream then?" Is what they'll say.

I wanted so badly to push them off me
to run away and never come back,
to disconnect from my body,
to die.

I was encouraged so badly to report it,
"It will give you closure",
"You will inspire others",
"People will think you are so strong",
so I did.

But instead of praise I got criticism and disrespect.
I wanted so badly to come out with this ****,
I was told I would be safe,
I was not.

But I reported it, it's my fault they would victim blame.
They would say since they're so successful,
she just wanted attention and money.

They let it slide because after all,
those boys are so young and talented,
why would we want to ruin their lives?
Yet mine is already ruined.

Dear depression,
I was 11 when you forced yourself on me. You never introduced yourself or even asked to be friends, you just took over my life. My happy days were gone, you kept following me around making me feel unwanted.
I did not want you here.
You grew as I grew, creeping into the quiet moments when I thought I was alone. You made me feel like I was nothing. I woke up looking forward to sleeping again - it was my escape. Yet you made my escape so difficult to reach.
I used to be so happy when the sun came out shining on my skin as I ran through the yard and laughed, with no care in the world.
But that laughter turned into tears, the sun into darkness. My heart and soul cries for help as I try to fight you.
You changed me - You keep me in my thoughts.
I'm stuck in a dark empty place that was once my self, but now it's gone. You left me far beneath my tears. You have taken my life away.
Why can't you just be gone already!!! I do not want you here, I never did! You have taken so much, what else do you want from me?!

I don't want you as a friend anymore. I can't take the constant fighting for my life. You ruined me. You ruined my mind, heart, body, and soul. You come back every time but you never leave. When will you leave me? I write sobbing knowing how much you have damaged me. I want you to leave and never come back.

There's not enough room for both of us.
So may the best one win.

Nobody ever taught me how to love myself.
I was never told to love the way my hair falls into light curls,
or the healing scars on my wrists, hips, and mind.
I was never told to love my stomach, my eyes, or my lips.
I was criticized all my life for the size and shape of my body.
Ever since I can remember I was told not to like myself,
to think of myself as nothing,
to always put others first.
I was never the number one priority and I never wanted to trust.
Even at home, I was told by the ones I loved the most that I was not good enough.

This is where the question originated: do the ones I love actually love me?
Maybe it was just an illusion in my mind,
that maybe they really don't.

I pictured my relationships with my family members as I thought they should be.
I thought that because they were family they would automatically
say "I love you",
support me through it all,
respect me,
keep me safe.
But it's not like that.

It took me quite some time to realize that just because you are related by blood,
all of these aren't automatically there.
It took me quite some time to realize that maybe they don't love me,
that if these things are lacking... it is not love.
It took me quite some time to realize that I was wanting the love and attention that all desire,
yet not all receive.

I was taught from a young age not to love myself,
which led to my thought that I was not loved as I grew older.

Maybe if I was taught to love myself then I wouldn't be the wreck I am now.
Maybe I would have more self-respect and wouldn't destroy not only my own body,
but my mind.
Maybe I would have avoided those toxic relationships.
Maybe my first love wouldn't have been able to take advantage of me,
and neither would have the other four boys.
Maybe I wouldn't have ended up in that hospital,
more than once.

Maybe if things were different in the beginning,
I wouldn't be so damaged now.

After a while, everything stops working.
You just have to give it time to die.

Recently I have allowed myself to get worse.
I stopped telling people how I was feeling,
I couldn't stay sober for more than a week,
I relapsed.
I hate myself for so many things that i have done,
I make the worst descisions,
I can't do things right.
I'm getting worse and I dont know how to ask for help.
It's hard, I want people to think I'm strong but Its hurting me.

God, this writing doesn't even make sense I'm so lost.

If I told you that you were the first one of 7
would you care?
If I told you that it took me months to recover,
would you care?
If I told you that I had panic attacks by the wrong touch,
would you care?
If I told you that I have nightmares about that night,
would you care?

No. You wouldn't.
But I hope you at least know that what you did,
I am reminded of every single week.
When somebody says your name,
when they bring up our past,
when I see a picture of you.

You haunt me.
You broke me.
And I am reminded of it too often.

My bedroom is my prison.
I am locked up with high surveillance.
My guards watching my every move,
yet somehow they see nothing.
A place where misconduct is common,
although the boss never sees.
A cold, harsh feeling always present.
Marks on the wall counting the days until i'm free.
My bedroom is my prison.
And there is no escaping until i'm out.