Mar 2014
She sighs with relief but also despair. The reason why she doesn't like her strawberry blonde curls and requirement to dress feminine are reasons beyond comprehension for her. She always felt that something deep inside her wanted to be Ben. He's Irish, filled with charisma, independent success and sure knows how to wear a thin gold chain. He gets the looks as he walks down the city streets and everyone memorized by his swag. He sings about the pacific northwest with extreme pride, and describes Seattle hip-hop community, human rights issues and major league baseball. She wanted to get fitted flannels, various colored slacks, suave kicks and shave the side of her hair.
While she was going through an abusive relationship when her lover had fallen to a secondary abuse (to only replace the first one), she listened to his words, we are not alone and things are ****** up but there might be a way out. The memories of going down the block during who knows what time, to smoke her pipe and dodge people completely. Endlessly walking down the streets and pondering....blank. Anxiety slowly creeping as she knows her partner is coming home, a full panic sets in and she isn't prepared for whats to come. It's laundry day, which means X amount of time for her to get angry with me, argue and sit there with emotional chaos. It is hard for her to think of these things because she didn't want to believe this was her reality, and she didn't know how to get out. She had bruises on her body that she can't keep track if it was to get away or not, she never set blame on anyone causing them. Endless nights of constant panic and worry, with her partner slamming out the door and walking around aimlessly and never returning. And when she was alone...totally encapsulated, bed ridden and locking up the doors. Rent was day was always a threat, and so was the debt she had owed me. Oh, and that promise ring that never came that she was so selfish to want, but she wanted to feel special, she wanted to feel loved. She wanted to know why this kept happening to her.
Nothing could make this feeling go away, because the same thing has happened again and she cannot bare to compare. The hopes of rebuilding are there. It's just that mental illness is getting in the way.
She notices she passed out while smoking, turns on her PC and starts another shift.
While she was going through an abusive relationship when her lover had fallen to a secondary abuse (to only replace the first one), she listened to his words, we are not alone and things are ****** up but there might be a way out. The memories of going down the block during who knows what time, to smoke her pipe and dodge people completely. Endlessly walking down the streets and pondering....blank. Anxiety slowly creeping as she knows her partner is coming home, a full panic sets in and she isn't prepared for whats to come. It's laundry day, which means X amount of time for her to get angry with me, argue and sit there with emotional chaos. It is hard for her to think of these things because she didn't want to believe this was her reality, and she didn't know how to get out. She had bruises on her body that she can't keep track if it was to get away or not, she never set blame on anyone causing them. Endless nights of constant panic and worry, with her partner slamming out the door and walking around aimlessly and never returning. And when she was alone...totally encapsulated, bed ridden and locking up the doors. Rent was day was always a threat, and so was the debt she had owed me. Oh, and that promise ring that never came that she was so selfish to want, but she wanted to feel special, she wanted to feel loved. She wanted to know why this kept happening to her.
Nothing could make this feeling go away, because the same thing has happened again and she cannot bare to compare. The hopes of rebuilding are there. It's just that mental illness is getting in the way.
She notices she passed out while smoking, turns on her PC and starts another shift.
