Everyone has something buried deep
internal struggles, personal flaws.
I hide mine behind smoke screens and walls.
I rarely leave, I'm a somber loner.
Its much preferred to feeling sober.

I can't stay outta my own head.
Paths for conversations we'll never have
meticulously planned out.
What will you say next?
How do I express an accurate reaction,
when I feel I have very little capacity?

People just aren't my forte .
Social skills lacking
Banter always feels like *******.
Neither person honestly caring for what is said in passing.
Just an exchange of pleasantries
Or perhaps its genuine.
Perhaps its just me.

Oh no.
Is it back?
Could this be?
The fingers flying
Clicking clacking
Bach on the keys
Streams of thought are hard to maintain.
Just lie back and let it take you away.

The boom boom kick.
Rhythm to my heart.
I should probably do some cardio
if I plan on living long.

Twenty October, 2015.
The day we go dark and cease existing.
No I don't mean we as in you,
but more as in me.
An inside joke taken a bit too seriously.
But I'm wary and my instincts tell me prepare
to say goodbye to everyone
because the end is near.
Absurd paranoia and yet I can't avoid it.
Or turn off the nihilism.
Everything seems pointless.

I had a thought
of fleeting bliss.
And then it was gone.
How fast I move on
to the next nonsensical,
possibly subliminal,
though more like subconscious,
train of thought.
Try clearing your mind,
you'll find it hard.
But once you get there
you find true reward.

Cat-like, I've always described myself as cat-like. Don't tell me what to do, don't expect me to like you, come too close and I'll scratch you, I'm not joking. Don't expect me to like you, I don't trust you, it's not you, just on principle, I'm no schizophrenic, but you never know what people will pull on you, you never know, it's safer to not trust, how can I trust with all this anxiety in me, people aren't safe, there is no safe space.
Ah, but give me a beer, give me a whiskey, one, two, I stop counting, and nothing matters, I'll come up to anyone who bothers to give me any attention. Whiskey gives me that high until the fall, but oh! what a high, just a moment of peace.

Feeling the need to let my mind just unwrap itself into whatever past present or future place it guides me to.

September 14, 2014 - 7 years ago it was less than a week before my world would forever be altered.

Nothing to prepare her.
She thought she knew what she wanted,
what she was doing;
none of it made sense
and it frightened and intrigued her
all at once.

What splendor lies in the forbidden unknown;
behind the curtain.

Close your eyes Julia,
just keep them closed and this will all be over soon.

You don't really feel him inside you,
on top of you,
behind you.
He's not there.
Not really, not if you don't want him to be.

Dissociate.
You can do it.
Just leave the room.
Can't you see it?

There.
You're getting ***** flat on your stomach.

I know you see him.
You see the anger in his face from way up here in the corner of the ceiling.
It's okay.
Don't cry.
Just numb out.

Think of ****** and of Brian.
Brian.
He doesn't feel like Brian.
Don't think about it.

Don't think about it.
This is your life now.
You chose this.
You deserve this.

Can you breathe?
Your head has been jammed between those pillows so long.

Are you sure she's ok?
She thinks she is but just wait.

He's been clipped.
You won't get pregnant.

I have to let him do this.
He's waited so long.
I have no more reason not to.
The postponing is over.

Pleasing him, her, anyone, always comes before what you want.
Do as is expected, Julia and it'll all be over soon.

You can make this all go away if you want.

Run, run fast into the back corner of the house
where your little room lies.
Stay there till it's over.
Till he's finished.

Don't worry about the warmth inside you,
spreading.

Just remember the balloons on your wallpaper,
that toy box right below the window in that first tiny room of yours.
You look up and see the blue sky
and the clouds twist themselves into animals for you.
The purple crayon loops on the wall behind the door.

The night light, the bear with the stocking cap on.
Where is it?
Where'd it go?
It's dark again, it's so dark and I can barely breathe.

Why are my clothes off?
When did he take them off?
Did I?
How did all this begin?
Where am I?
His bed.

I can hear the fountain outside.
Turn your head, Julia.
It's Friday, the day after the chaos.
6:31pm.
I'm on my back.

This is the first time?
Yes.
This was the first of 2...or 3.

**** is an ugly word.
It sounds just like the act.
It feels ***** and painful in your mouth.

Hate comes easy when I see that print of the pillowcase.
It smells of ****** sweat and clean sheets.

My hair is getting pulled.
"I'm gonna make you mine."
Cringe.
Hold your breath, let him do what he's going to do and just wait.
Stay in one spot and do nothing,
nothing can hurt you if you just lie there.

This isn't really happening.
Go away.
Go away, Julia.
Just run,
run as far away as you can.

You're in bed with a monster
and you don't need to see the life he's steeling from you.