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As I stand before the mountain of confidence called hope, I see a clear path up, not too steep, not too straight, but this path is embodied with rewards to the top.

At the top, there is a magnificent tree made of gold, silver leaves and Copper roots. Hope mountain held a perfect prize awaiting me, a Tree called Faith.
This sight to behold was everything I wanted, everything before me was so clear, but at the bottom where I was, there was a River.

This River was called Shame.
This river was filthy, the water was calm where I was, but looking downstream I could see the rapids of rage, the ripples of conditioning before the raging rapids were inviting.

The dreary stonewalling fortification on the banks allowed no light through, downstream was scary and looked impossible, why would I go that way? why even look?
I looked upstream and saw a blinding light, what could this be? I was so curious, so I waited, a true gentleman always waits.

Two days later the light took shape, as it came closer I could finally see, I could see a lifeboat with a caring nurturing beautiful woman.

As this beautiful woman came closer, I could see the river was being supplied by this woman, I could see she was the source.

The river of Shame was being fed by this woman, this filth in front of me was coming from her, but the beauty was something I've never seen, this beauty had me curious.

This beauty made me forget of the supply to the river.
  What I saw wasn't real all the sudden, what I believed was now real.
She came close enough for my heart to be heard, since she had no heart she was envious, she hated what others admired.

She wanted my wholesome heart, so she used her falsehood love bombing to create one, dreamingly admiring the mountain, we were planning different paths right then.
As I stared at the golden Tree of Faith glowing upon Hope mountain, I didn't notice the river was rising, as the numbing waters were rising it covered my feet, I didn't notice she also took a piece of my heart to claim as her own.

She used toxic gas and light to create a projection that this heart was hers to give back to me.

I didn't know any better so I accepted this ambient abused heart, this unfelt abuse gave me amnesia, this hidden poison of my cognitive dissonance gave her all of me.

Since she had nothing and that's what she craves, I had everything so she wanted to enslave.
I forget about the mountain with the tree even being there. I forgot I was here.

Her lifeboat was awkward, it was shaky,
it has imperfections, it has holes,
   her lifeboat is sinking,
     her heart is missing.
my knightly kind hearted empathy,
   my buffering and nurturing sympathy         pick this beautiful woman up
      I pick this gem up because of her idealization of me.
I can clean this insidious gem because she makes me believe, but through the veil I cannot see.
I throw her over my shoulder to carry all her weight, it's hard to move, hard to breathe, building a new boat was extremely hard, carrying her pain was extremely hard.

Everyone thought it was impossible to do it, my shear will power to commit ****** one foot in front of the other, I just didn't know that going downstream was impossible.

What about the mountain?

I couldn't remember from the amnesia, the dark night blinded my sight of the mountain, the drug in me was you and it consumed, i fell in love with misery and misery loves it's companies.

I stared the snake behind the veil in the eyes, standing tall on her pedastool made of spackle it breaks, I fall onto piercing confusion, I pull out shrapnel's of dissolution, I'm covered in her blood of invalidation.

I'm already floating in the boat with her, this wasn't my plan, this wasn't my reality.
I gaze upon this woman, sun shining behind her, no clouds in the sky.
floating downstream she tells me it's faster, that we'll end up behind the mountain higher.

I'm not worried now, I'm now contempt with shame.
I already forgot reality, I already forgot i'm going downstream, I forgot the searing pain, I forgot what I believe.

I'm relaxed, I'm tired, I'm still happy in love with this spellbound misery.

As we drift slowly through the stonewalls, no light shines through, I ask her for assurance, it's getting dark, I'm getting scared.

That's when the veil comes off, that's when the unnatural beauty grows quiet, that's when my voice screams silently within these stone walls.

This isn't her, this isn't real,
I know there's love I can feel, that was our bond, that was our deal, not to steal.

I fall over board and the water is cold, there's leaches, the debris is so random, the shameful water is moving faster, the all consuming cold confusion, random gaslighting and triangulations moving in around me faster.

I immediately can't bear it. My heart pulsates hard, my mind misfires my flight mode, i cannot intake the overbearingly unowned toxic Shame, her coldness activated my fawn mode, I froze, I start to doze.

luckily she had my leg, luckily she knew excessive admiration CPR, just as my body went limp in the agonizing River of Shame, she pulls me out. luckily she got me just in time, luckily she saved my life.

I awoke away from the stonewalls, it's sunny and safe again, we're together through impossible odds, we built this boat and she saved my life.

The abuse amnesia made me forget, the cognitive dissonance was real, I am not.

The mountain was now farther away, I was worried, I grew fearful, what I wanted looked farther away, that's when everything became gloomy, my goal was no longer there, but she didn't care, she knew where the river went, I believed her, I still do.

The ambient abuse made me anxious, the atmosphere was maddening of fear, it carried anxiety, I couldn't see it, but I was breathing it in.

Her eyes were so incapacitating, her heart disorienting, her soul captivating, she had a better plan, for us to press on and build another boat, to add another life, to believe in her, to not stare at the knife.

We build another boat, were out of the shame waters finally, she's helping me, were soon to be a real family, but the only thing real here was me.

Everything is better on the land, were dry, it's sunny, it's better to feel the nirvanic sand. It's here we bring our new seed, to be sprouted downstream.

I now believe in this new mountain downstream, I don't even remember the mountain I seen, were pressing on downstream past a levy, were now in the River of Grief, we're off to the end of make believe.

This river is really turbulent with rapids of devaluation, the splashes make me irrelevant, the dinigrating actions around make me small, I feel lost and confused, nothing makes sense anymore at all.

At the mouth of the River of Grief it opens up into a valley. She jumped onto a rock of vanity and pushed the tree of disloyalty upon the boat.

This throws me out head first, but luckily I have our seed safe and sound, luckily I learned how to drown.

I turn around falling and see her at the top staring down, she smirked and throws enormously heavy anvils of bereavement to make me fall harder, to keep me down longer.

Evil is real, but only if you believe, I crave the flattery of illusionary love, I still had amnesia, I love misery, the feeling reminds me I can feel, I love my slow death so I say I'll find you, I have the seed, I'll wait for you.

As I fall the thorns of numbing premeditation pierce, the pain is searing, as I fall i'm locked on her, my falsehood of love is still enduring, I don't feel the discard, I ignore the distaste.

I land in a field of hopium still protecting the seed, my amnesia is now worse, I can't remember her smirk, I can't remember the weighted anvils of bereavement, I can't remember the tree of disloyalty, I still can't remember the mountain.

My movement is heavy like concrete, my heart sits down at my feet, my mind is nowhere to be found, my spirit is fading on this ground.

I gather everyone from a nearby village to find her, it's impossible, they can't see her, she never existed, my amnesia was now delusional, the hopium mixed realities, nothing was real, there was nothing I could truly feel because everything was wrong, but I believe misery needs me and I yearned.

I say she's at the top, we have to throw her a rope,
they say it won't reach what isn't there,
I say we need a ladder to throw the rope, they say the ladder isn't safe that high.
  
I say everyone can hold the ladder while I climb perilously to the top, they say it will never work, but since they can see me, since they see a part of me is still real, everyone holds the ladder for me.
      
While I acend with my broken dignity, I acend with a fatigued heart, I acend to find what I believe, no matter how hard I try, I will be taking my destined decent.

The top of the ladder is shaky, I spent forever getting there, it's scary, the heights bring great fear over me, more than I've ever felt, but my knighthood makes me overcome anything.

I suppress, the seed is safe down below, I'm here to impress, I can see her now, only much less.

Her snake skin is peeling, the sun scorched blistering skin shows immense pain, witnessing this releases empathy, the caring knighthood in me naturally wanted to save her again.

So I wrap what's left of my discarded soul upon my broken fatigued heart and I use my trauma bonded mind as bait.

I throw her the rope,
she catches the rope,
I tell her to tie off the rope,
she ties a noose with the rope,
her neck is now wrapped with this rope.

If she falls I can't stop the tightening of the rope, if she falls I already know I'll jump for her and release from her neck this rope.

We jump together and I release the rope around her neck, I see the ground coming fast, but I love this snake, I'll die for this snake because I believe, false beauty inside is all I see.

I grab her and turn her away from the rushing ground, I fell once, I can take the fall again.

She is already hurt, immense pain, she will not feel no more pain, because I'm not hurting for I'm with misery again, I believe I can take all the pain for her, the hopium was numbing everything I consumed.

I awoke to a distressed angel, flawed personality, beautiful nightmare, mirroring the devil, but what I saw was a veil over the snake eyes, what I saw was what I believed before.

What I had wasn't real, who I am is no longer there, for I had ambience amnesia, nothing around me fit, nothing around me was grounded, nothing around me was divine.

The eyes that gazed upon me were captivating, spriling, time froze and only she was moving, the feeling was there, a drug within me, the drug was her and I longed for the misery, I yearned for the pain to remember what was real, I needed the intermittent reinforcement, I wanted my all bets in investment back and I risked a short sale.

We faded into the black, into a new boat, she made this boat, she had plugs in  holes of the boat I couldn't see, I believed it was perfect, I didn't know what awaited was a life long anguish.

I still didn't know what was downstream is impossible, I didn't know this new River of Anguish has piranhas of triangulation, I didn't know the rapids were of oppression, I didn't know the rocks causing these rapids she already put in place, I didn't know it was so black around me in this place, I didn't know my seed would become two, I didn't know I would have to choose.

I didn't know true love was in front of me in my hands and not behind the veil, I thought it was her, all the villagers knew, but as I drew closer to the snake the darkness only grew and the seeds too.

The feeling of my lingering mortality reverberates, she built me a coffin and chained it to my ankles, with this immense weight, I carry it with me just in case.

We floated very fast down this River of Anguish, everything seemed fine to all others including me, the darkened skies covered the evil, the cold waters made my body numb, the seeds were held up high to be be safe from the tormenting waters.

As I held them up high, I didn't realize she was still holding the schraded butcher knife in the water, I didn't believe she would hurt me, I didn't conceive the possibility that knife I didn't see was there all along for me.

The waters of Anguish smothered me, the triangulating piranhas slowly nibbled on my feet in the water, the rapids of oppression kept me gazing in the water, the rocks of malice in the water tried to tip me over, but my balance was true and the seeds were safe from harm, but I am not safe, I'm dying inside.

I don't know why, but after every agonizing stab from this knife when I'm not looking, it hurts, but the numbing knife only helped me when it was pulled out, it has holes in the knife so she could pull it out without me knowing.

I always turned around and cleaned the knife covered in my blood, I always gave it back to her, but every wipe upon this blade made it grow, and every wipe made the label on the handle more clear.

I find out in the end this knife is called narcissistic rage, the brand of this knife is called gaslighting and my blood is the supply.

I didn't know any of this until it was too late to save myself, my reality wasn't real, my dreams are gone, my nightmare is all consuming and existent, my seeds are still safe, but I am not.

When I start to notice the knife exists, I forgive her, the conditioning made the skies darker, I wipe the blood off and give it back, the knife is now a sword, it's name is discard.

The waters are uneven, the piranhas of triangulation feel like strangulation, my clothes are still soaking wet with anguish, my hair is slimy and covered in Shame, my feet are cold and numb from the grief.

I can't understand why I'm here,
  I can't understand why I'm actually meant to be here.
  
Every turbulence has thrown me down, she pushes me over head first, as I try to lean up to breathe she has her foot on my neck in the cold numbing river, but this river does not affect her, this river is warmer than her, the warmth from anguish pleased her, the piranhas followed her commands to bite, she smirked as the rocks she placed crushed against my head.

She waited until I went limp every time, but she knew idealization CPR, her deceit was without compassion, her rage was without sympathy, but I had severe ambience abuse amnesia, I still couldn't remember the mountain, I am now trauma bonded from the stabs she's counting.

I only saw her veil, her gaze convinced me I placed these rocks here, her gaze made me ignore the stonewalls around me, her pure hatred was covered in false intentions, her illusion was my isolation.

As everything was becoming clearly dangerous, as everything went pitch black, I look back and see the light from the mountain glowing, I see there is something wrong where I'm at, I see the seeds are not growing, I start to see the pain all around me.

Non the wiser, I keep coming back from drowning, I keep falling for misery, I keep wiping my blood off the blade, I keep isolated, but now I feel there is something painfully wrong, the reason abates me but I feel it, it hurts, it's camouflaged by deceit, it's all in my head, my coffin is soon to be my bed.

I look to the shores, there are other villagers worried, they are waving frantically, they're pointing at a waterfall ahead, this waterfall is called Doom, this fall would be death, the sound is raging, the mouth all consuming.

I see the stream to the side that the villagers are pointing to, I see the calm waters awaiting our safety, but the boat will not fit.

Only me and the seeds are real, everything else around me is illusional, the trauma delusional, the possible harm to the seeds was not refutable, my love for misery was unsuitable.

I could see my life was in danger, I could see the stream nearby screaming safety, I knew the seeds needed me, now I can't stop shaking.

Without her knowing what I was doing, I turned my back towards her facing the water, I knew she was going to stab me over and over again until I turned around, I now see the hypnotic eyes behind the veil. Not turning around only enraged her, the blood on the knife was condesating.

  The safety of the stream for my seeds was a new found glory in my exodus.
  
I paddled with my small hands this large weighted boat towards the stream, her knife was venomous, the water was echoless, the air imparted dreadfulness, all of this was dimensionless, all of this was not real, unless I let it be, now I can see, now I can finally flee.

As I came closer to the stream the waterfall grew stronger, the pain larger, the sound louder, I knew we were closer to the end, I knew I needed to jump off with my seeds, but I know the torment will end.

I melted my enduring pain inside with molten lava heartache to mold anew, I compartmentalize because I have to choose.

I had a vision that if I jump, the seeds will be safe, the climb to the mountain can still happen, I knew I was right about how I felt all along, I realized the veil couldn't cover the true self, I now believed In me.

I now know the water air and land were not what she made me believe, I knew I didn't choose this path, I knew I could survive, I know the seeds are going to be safe now. I know because I manifested instead of throwing in the towel.

Once close enough I finally looked at her and smiled I love you, jumping into the river I could feel the bitter cold agonizing tormenting river smash me with bereavement and disillusion by dissociation, I felt the coma of trauma surround, for I am now trauma bound.

I hold my seeds up high, I kept them safe because they don't feel the water, they're starting to sprout already, no more decay.

As I climb out of the frigid waters and still dripping wet, the drops are red, my feeling is coming back, my back is full of knives, I'm scared but I survived.
Knowing the worst is over I look back to her, she is consuming the river because she was the source, everything dark folds in on itself because the light cannot touch here, for this black hole is collapsing in on itself, I cover the seeds to shield them of this exorcist, they're safe here because my love is relentless.

The tormenting pain makes it hard to stand tall, still going through bereavement of a false reality where I lost it all, the answers we're all lost in the waterfall
"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ”"" "" "" "”" "" ""
Monisha Feb 2020
When I was just a little girl,
And as little girls were taught then,
I played with dolls and a teaset,
Made mudcakes for food,
Wore skirts, made my hair into ponytails as I was let.
I saw the boys with the abandon which comes with free wear and play,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.

When I was older, a teen
and as teen girls were taught then,
Walk, talk, rock softly
Don’t draw too much attention
Or attempt to explore too much.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom to play, sit, be as they want  ,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.

When I was sixteen, oh sweet sixteen,
And as sixteen year old girls were taught then,
Don’t wear clothes that show your frame,
That’s indecent and you will be in another home and will incur alot of blame.
Don’t wander, argue, or express an opinion,
You’re a girl, being humble, quiet and gentle becomes you.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom of movement and speech,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.

When I was older, and passionately sought a particular career,
I was admonished as many other girls in my time,
It’s not a career for women, late nights, more men to be around,
When you get married, that’s not going to work and troubles will abound.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with the  freedom of pursuing their dreams,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.

When I was married, and setting a home, working  and raising a family,
I left my work as many other girls in my time,
For my husband to follow his work path,
Unquestioningly, unflinchingly, resolutely.
I saw the men then with the abandon which comes with freedom of being in control of their lives,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.

But this is just the surface of my questioning being a girl,
When boys and men around tried their stunts on girls and women,
I questioned my existence.
When many girls and women I know,
Were told to stay mum on men close who took advantage of them
I questioned my existence.
When In the workspace,
Women got paid less than men because their salary were subtly looked at as secondary salaries,
Or needed to speak louder to be heard,
I questioned my existence.
When the onus of keeping a relationship working  was the woman’s responsibility largely,
I questioned my existence.
When a woman got hit by her spouse,
Its she who may have provoked him.
When a man strayed,
Its she who was not a good enough wife that he had to look elsewhere.
I questioned my existence.

The atrocities many men are capable of,
The filth many men spread,
****, hate, aggression, manipulation and more
Abuse, gaslighting inside closed doors,
Wearing a mask of sophistication outside
Animalistic and entitled beings to the core.

My apologies to men who are not,
And I know some,
But they are but a handful,
Too insignificant in the larger way the world works.

But then I see me,
A harbinger of change,
In my home and around.
Raising my son differently,
Advocating for change purposively,
Actioning resolutely what’s right,
Woman for women with all my might.
I see so many more women now who retain their selves and are beacons of hope,
They don’t sit around and just mope.

And I am glad I am a girl,
And I question no more,
I question no more.
Shianne Michelle Sep 2016
To be raised in dysfunction is to expect failure.  
It is to expect every mans words to be rough and spiteful spilling from their lips like venom.  
To be raised in a fantasy is to fear ones own reality.
It is to become acquainted to forms of love being shown as slammed doors and drunken slurs.  
Gas lighting women to wonder if one day they will breathe or step the wrong direction
It is to expect everyone who claims that they "love you" to belittle you  to strip you of your identity and your sanity like ***** clothes tainted by the fumes of their words.  
And in the gaslighting, which burned very bright, you would have enough of a glow to paint the roses red.
Perfectly red, everyday they would have to be red.
Because to be raised by you
Means blood, and we are blood.
But that does not mean, I have to bleed, for you.
Yenson Jun 2022
The poor girl said
I so sorry, but I'm afraid they may turn against me, please understand

The near brownies said
please forgive, they will start picking on us if we don't go along and do as ordered

The Preachers says
we have to be as them, we are cultists and already marginalized, if we didn't they'll isolate us more and it helps our recruitment

The weak and insecure said
this is a no brainer mate
for once we get the opportunity to feel relevant and play the fool without the usual disapprovals

The reluctant ones say
we feel oppressed and bad but they are coercing us daily and we just don't have a choice

So their moral compass compromised, their free-will imprisoned
their integrity abused and disrespected, their brains washed, their dignity rubbished, their minds poisoned and internally they are stressed, uncomfortable and feel enslaved. They have been dehumanized because their Narcissistic masters decides so...







Anyone who remembers watching the Wizard of Oz as a child will probably remember how horrifying the Wicked Witch of the West’s flying monkeys were. These monkeys were sent by the witch to do her ***** work, and the phrase has since become synonymous with people who end up doing the ***** work of a narcissist.

Flying monkeys get caught up in a narcissist’s plan — often to damage the life of another person. The narcissist may use their flying monkeys as piggy in the middle, carrying information from party to party. The flying monkey may use gaslighting tactics, open aggression, and guilt-tripping in order to make another person feel bad and weak, whilst shoring up the narcissist. And they’re often involved in pleading the case of the narcissist. Narcissists love having flying monkey, as it makes them feel important and means they can appear to be above the people below them who are caught up in the messy parts of the drama.

Some of the reasons people become flying monkeys include:

Self-preservation and protection.
Forming an alliance with the person perceived as like us or our organisation is one reason people adopt this role. Telling tales, spreading misinformation, and using gaslighting techniques against anyone who dares to question the narcissist might just mean you get to keep your job and don’t find yourself on the receiving end of narcissistic rage.

Rescuing the narcissistic "victim."
If you tend to fall into a rescuing role, you may feel compelled to jump to the defence of the narcissist who blames everyone and everything for whatever is going wrong in their life. Sticking up for the narcissist meets your inbuilt need to feel valued and needed because of your rescuer role.

A loss of sense of self.
Some flying monkeys are so browbeaten by the narcissist that they have far less capacity than otherwise might be expected when it comes to knowing right from wrong. They may have experienced years of emotional abuse at the hands of the narcissist and have lost a sense of self and independent decision-making along the way.

Loving the drama.
Some flying monkeys really thrive on the drama. When you’re involved with a narcissist, it’s almost inevitable that you’ll be involved in a few dramas along the way. What can beat the adrenaline of being caught up in lies, secrecy, and deception?

Being a narcissist.
Flying monkeys often have strong narcissistic traits themselves, including a desire for attention, a lack of empathy, and a desire to bully and manipulate others. They may be involved in a work, or other situation in which they know that their best opportunity to fulfill their narcissistic desires comes from allying themselves with a more powerful narcissists.

Being used by a narcissist to take care of some of the least desirable aspects of their business is always going to place you in a compromised, stressful environment and you should ensure that you have the appropriate support in place when you choose to change your role.
Jace Jul 2021
When you have a problem
With something that I say
I tend to apologise as soon
As I know that it was offensive.

When I have a problem
With something you say
I stay silent
Because I know you won’t accept
That it was offensive.

When you have a problem
With something I say
I make sure
To let you know that I know
That I was wrong

When I have a problem
With something you say
I decided to speak up
You told me I was gaslighting you

Making you doubt the events
That we both know happened
Because the problem with the thing I said
Was addressed, I told you I was sorry
I explained why I was wrong
I promised not to do it again

You said I was gaslighting you
But you’re the one making me
Hate myself for trying

So I don’t really understand.
Bob B Oct 2021
Gaslighting: creating a false
Narrative in order to make
People question reality--
To change what's true into what's fake.

Trump, for example, has perfected
The art of gaslighting to a T
When he wants us to believe
That what's really there is NOT what we see.

Take January 6,
The day of the Capitol insurrection,
When thugs violently rejected
The results of the 2020 election.

Trump and his supporters are saying,
Oh, it really wasn't that bad.
It was merely some patriots
Expressing themselves because they were mad.

Or look at all the lies being spread
That our elections are not reliable.
Faulty machines…election fraud…
All of that is unjustifiable.

Gaslighters deny wrongdoing
And love the tactic of shifting the blame.
Immigrants are responsible for
Spreading COVID, gaslighters claim.

Lying, distracting: those are their tactics.
Erasing the past is their major goal.
They'll wear us down with their lies and do
Whatever they can to stay in control.

-by Bob B (10-8-21)
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2019
Now that I know what
This means you can't do it to
My brain anymore
It is a psychological manipulation tactic where an 'abuser' makes intended 'victim' think they are crazy so they inherently cannot trust their own judgement/instinct. Pretty ****** up right? Don't let people do this to you!! It's common in physically and mentally abusive relationships! Yes there is such a thing as mentally abusive. Sometimes it's even worse than physical and this is coming from someone with experience with both..
Colette Williams Feb 2015
I know what I said;
I know what I did.
Here you are claiming
It never happened.
I know how you are;
I know your routine.
Here you are claiming
You're not any different.
Here I am, alone,
In my perception.
Am I crazy,
Or just a victim of clever deception?
Nynke Jun 2021
She was the light
You threw her gas
Lighting her up
Turning it to flames
Ending in smoke
---------------------------
~ N.N.

Compartmentalized;

..An elevated view  of you
shows booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,


.. after booth, after booth
   Each one  partitioned  with

an impenetrable  curtain
hanging off of  a bone-frame
stainless steel  pipe structure,
Built high enough  for the
different parts  of you
to sense, but not   feel..

what part of you
is in the other booth.

   Problem is,

You want and expect
me to orbit around it all
as if each isolated part
   is,  in itself..
actually the whole you..
when I know it is  only
a  tremendously-lonely
    part of the whole.
And you take love  to be
some form of blindness
  on my part

--to the elephant in the room,
And I tell you I love you..
And I tell you,  

               "No.. I won't do it"

--And your shame  kicks in
causing you to  feel
     I'm too harsh..

        or being judgemental.

Yet all along, you are knowing--
That just a few moments  with me..
and the walls come tumbling down.
   .          .          .          .         .          .          

When the partitions  drop
(that is your terror)
(that is your horror)

You will not annihilate
into a million fragments  
   of nothingness

The you(s)..  of you
will meet one another
for the very first time
since you were first  dismembered
(fragmented, so very long ago.)
You will not  disintegrate, love..

You will  Re- integrate.

Love does that.  It does.
But you already know that.
Yet still you hide (.. from me.)


You are addicted  to the 'comfort'
the partitions's isolation brings.
Your relationship is not with
the sum of the parts  as a whole..
but with the internal  "construct"  within you--
  the chasm..  the gap..  

--the empty space between those parts;
as it uninstalls one part of the intricate you
and re-installs the next

And you have no idea   how to
   orchestrate
the many different parts  of you
   like a conductor would do
   with his orchestra..   therefore,

You can only be in relationship
with one part of yourself at a time--
..Each partitioned  'self'
has an e-mail address
Each one  has
a separate account  of its own..
Each one,  within itself..   convinced
that it carries within itself
its own, separate genetic imprint

Each one,  you can  milk  
within its incompleteness
     as if it in itself,   is complete--
    .. Flaunting it, flaunting it;  
    as though it is the complete you
  while all other necessary  parts of the whole
  remain dangerously dormant..
   --being Unholy-ghosted  by

    whatever currently-visible part of you
    now  has control of the ship.


--And throughout the years
I am expected to weather the storm
and gather  pieces,  from pieces..
and then magically (oh.. I can..)
piece them all together as I speak to you
without you having to even  feel
the tension (absurdity)  of the
mis-placed  accountability
   (and responsibility)
    to enter into love
    as a Whole (the sum of many parts)

And so here I am..  orbiting    
    orbiting  orbiting--
around your ever-changing  mood swings;
        the   "Paul-is-good,"  one day
        and  "Paul-is-bad,"  the next,
       (those ever-changing perspectives,
       gaslighting.. gaslighting.. gaslighting)

   --in order that you might  remain   'the same'
   based on whatever current-visible  part of you
   is currently at the helm..

       The current pilot of the ship
       wholly unaware of the leadership styles,
       opinions and views of that  of the last.  
Harsh sounding.. I know..
(but you know..)

And so, here's the rub--

You are feeling your days
to be numbered..
You have been around me
too long, love.
(that is your fault)   You knew.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4159831/tourniquet-smiles-yeah-that/

I wrote that  such a long time ago


We are getting closer to Home, love.
I wrote this strange little ditty
before I wrote that other one..

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3383529/fragments/

What you have feared  most
has now given way
to the sound of inevitability

   (You should have ran
             ..but you didn't.)



..The sound of inevitability
 isn't really a sound at all..

..It is the  sound of you  still
  standing there.



Its on.

..And so it begins

https://youtu.be/SPoI-jytOT0
.

I can see now that this could be aptly construed
as a love-note to my mother
Welcome to my world  as a little boy.

I am no longer that little boy.. sweet beautiful, fragmented Angel.
Subjectivity and gaslighting  either breaks us

   or  over time, and with help  from the outside
          ..makes us strong AF.


God bless (curse) the child who can finally see.
                        xoxoxo
voodoo Sep 2016
lately, my answer to anything just seems to be

“i don’t know”

and when i reach out to the mirror,

my hands goes through and i can’t feel the person on the other side,

as if the twenty years or so that i survived

don’t mean anything to Reality.

and i want to fight back, you know

fight for my place, for my heartbeat

but how many battles can you wage,

and how many battles can you win

for a cause you no longer believe in?

i don’t know.

i think about bodies a lot,

and how clothes are so burdened with the task of

covering such substantial skeletons, such important skin,

as if they could ever veil

the blood that pulses in You.

Your body amongst orchids,

decomposing ever so slightly in the purple darkness of night:

a night that we do not possess

but it takes over us so completely in its solitude.

i hate that word.

i hate the entire farce of it all.

i’m not okay alone

you aren’t, either

and so isn’t anybody i’ve ever known,

but we keep dancing to this charade –

this pitiful masquerade

of independence and self-sustenance.

i don’t know.

i think what i’m trying to say is

you only know permanence when someone you love

becomes someone you used to love,

and the life that you’re breathing (but they aren’t),

the life that you’re breathing on borrowed time,

is suddenly so endless

so hollow

because it’s me without You:

echoes of a voice that always comes around somehow empty.

and i’m tired of opening at the close,

a futile juxtapose,

only because i won’t allow myself to admit

that nothingness exists when i’m without You.
girl diffused Oct 2017
now swallow your words
for that matter your tongue too
spit out saltwater
1. They tell blatant lies.
2. They deny they ever said anything, even if you have proof.
3. They use what is near and dear to you as ammunition.
4. They wear you down over time.
5. Their actions do not match their words.
6. They throw in positive reinforcement to confuse you.
7. They know confusion weakens people.
8. They project.
9. They try to align people against you.
10. They tell you or others that you are crazy.
11. They tell you everyone else is a liar.

- taken from, "11 Signs of Gaslighting in a Relationship" from PsychologyToday (https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/here-there-and-everywhere/201701/11-signs-gaslighting-in-relationship)
Amanda Shelton Aug 2022
A narcissist is a dummy bear on crack. They have gummies for brains.

Viewing the world with mooching eyes, flirting with greed and gluttony, playing games with the devil.

The narcissist is no friend
of the family.

They are crude and thick with pollution and toxic waste.

The Narcissist brings nothing but
suffering and pain.

If you bump into a narcissist
in the wild, run and don't
look back.

A narcissist wants attention and
they don't like bold and brave people.

They chose victims by kindness,
reputation and intelligence.

The smarter and more popular you
are the more likely a narcissist
will strike at you.

You have to be smarter than they,
set boundaries and strict rules.

Don't allow anyone to break your
security or your self esteem.

A narcissists biggest flaw is ego,
strike them in the ego ***** and
watch them turn blue and fall.

Find their weakness in their
gaslighting, use it to fight back.

They blame everyone but themselves for their actions.

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
This is inspired by my personal experiences with a narcissist. I have gone to college to study behavioral health and social science as well. Mental health was my best subject. I have personal experience with mental health as well as studied it for over 20 years. As a passion and necessity to understand my own mind, I researched the deepest parts of mental health. I was seven years old when I started being intrigued by behavioral health. My anxiety and paranoia brought me to a place of intriguing environment's that I wanted to face so I can get through my fear of suffering in silent pain. It was my candle in the darkest.
Haylin May 2018
I know what I said;
I know what I did.
Here you are claiming
It never happened.
I know how you are;
I know your routine.
Here you are claiming
You're not any different.
Here I am, alone,
In my perception.
Am I crazy,
Or just a victim of clever deception?
Instead of gaslighting
me
you're the first
person
to validate my
emotions
in a long
time.
Kacey Musgraves - Space Cowboy
Little Bear Jun 2016
I remember a time when he would come home.

And i remember that, you must stand at the door and welcome him home like you are happy, don't forget to be happy.
Tea was always ready and the house would be clean and tidy because it should be, you wanted it to be, and woe betide you if it wasn't.
And then, when tea was finished, he wanted his beer and the tv on
and now you mustn't talk because you shouldn't.
So the kitchen was tidied and everything was just so..
you mustn't forget to make it just so.
But you know the time is coming where the beer is all gone and the match would be lost and the anger would flare.
That's when you want to become invisible but you can't
because he needs to punch something and well..
you're as good as any door.
So after the room was cleaned up and the broken glasses and lip was put away, it was time for bed..
And you can't pretend to be asleep because that doesn't count
as a no.

Thankfully there was a little glow in the dark star on the ceiling you could look up at and wish upon it that you weren't in this room, in this bed right now. I think the people who lived there before left it behind. I knew that if i moved i would take it with me.

And the need to run was immense. But there was no where to go and nobody knew and, after all, it was the way of things, don't complain.. it could be worse.. remember that.. it could be worse.. he said.

I often dreamed of a tiny little bed all of my own with fairy lights and my own place to put my books, but that would have to wait as now is not the time to think of such a silly notion. Stupid ***** that you are.

And so each and every night, i painted the roses red.. so i didn't loose my head.

And running wasn't really an option because, contrary to popular opinion, that is harder than you think.. after all... this was normal and... this is just what happens and... this is just one of those things and... **** it up buttercup, now clean the house again you stupid ****.

And in the gaslighting, which burned very bright, you would have enough of a glow to paint the roses red.
Perfectly red, everyday they would have to be red.

And life carried on for years like this and my friend, the little glow in the dark star and i were the only ones who knew what 'behind closed doors' really meant.

Inevitably children were born into this world of mine, and you can't say no to no contraception, because the need to see his fertility bloom was the most important thing in the world.
Most important.

But i was indeed blessed with more than an armful of joy.

And so we all painted the roses red and in time, we all wondered, which one of us would loose our head.

We moved house and the years passed as they normally do with various reasons to run and threats that made us stay.
But you never run..  because now he might **** you all,
and not just you.
If it was just you, you wouldn't have minded so much...

So we moved house and the little glow in the dark star came along too. It was placed near the light fitting over the bed and i put my finger to my lips and said 'shhh' as i stuck it to the ceiling.
But we knew.

And so, for a few more years you carry the weight of the world, the little secret, and a heart full of love, and begin painting the roses red with your children.
And now you definitely can't leave and you can't run because they might loose their heads and now, now you might have to watch.. while you get to keep yours.

And then a tide turned, well, four tides turned, and damage was being done that my love could not repair.
And that is when i had to be brave and i had to do what i should have done many years before.
I was conditioned to suffer along side and this was normal.
Not that any of that is an excuse.
And although i knew it wasn't right, i knew it was normal.. for me.

A contradiction if ever there was.

But my love for my children will always be far greater, greater than my love for any one else could ever be. Even if it was their flesh and blood.
And him saying we couldn't leave now did not count as a no.
But we didn't leave.
We made him pack his things and go. We had found safety in numbers, we all stood and were counted, we exposed only what secrets needed to be told.
The rest we keep for ourselves.
He never said sorry and he left. And never came back.

So we kept some of the red paint and we added orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. And we painted all of our roses any **** colour we wanted to. Including ourselves.

And I took down the little glow in the dark star, it had seen far too much and probably needed therapy :o)  

And we will live happily forever after.
Oh so very simplified. All i know is, you do what you have to to get by, and when the tide turns.. do what you must.
Gray Ndiaye Mar 2019
it was you all along
i thought it was me
i apologized profusely
my cries were ignored
you blamed me
i did too
drove myself to the brink of insanity
so often that i knew
the back roads
all along
it was you
Sad Girl Feb 2023
It’s not about what I need from you or want from you.
I’m not asking you for anything.
It’s what I don’t want.
I don’t want you to spoil our connection
because you have trauma that you haven’t
dealt with and I know that you feel the same way.
I do have trauma and I do have pain,
But when I speak to you it is always from a place of
healed energy and it is always from a place of healing intention.

I respect and admire your solidarity and your independence,
That is what makes you so beautiful to me.
I know that you do not want me to speak to you from a place of healing because you want to do that work yourself. I innerstand.
I wish that I could help you to see me in a
better light and understand me so that we could fix this.
I cannot open your mind or shift your perspective
because you ask me not to deepen this connection.

You have ingrained into your head that I do not
respect your boundaries- all the while- missing the clear
sign that I do respect your boundaries when I leave
things out of a conversation with you.

We try to read in between the lines of each
other but we are not books. We are not meant to be read.
People often try to calculate or read situations and conversations,
but forget that we can speak with more than our mouths and our body language.
We are the universe acting out against itself
and working in favor of itself in tandem.

We are so much more than the words that
you have tried to reduce us to.
I wish that you could understand me better
so that I could take your pain away.
You want to feel through this and to be in the pain
because you crave the growth and that is another
thing that I love about you.
You are a ******* warrior so please don’t ever
think for a second that I don’t see you and respect you.

Adversely; while accepting no responsibility
over the pain that you’ve caused the both of us,
You shut down the opportunity for healing.
You want to know what it is that you have done so wrong,
But if I were to dissect a conversation and tell
you each part that tore open a healed wound…
I wouldn’t be respecting your boundaries.

You asked me not to deepen this connection
so I can’t explain what it is that you’ve done.
This prevents me from healing from what you have done.
You get to work on healing what it is that you
have done within yourself, but I will never forget
the feeling of my chest caving in on my break from work.

I won’t forget crying and opening up to a
complete stranger in the parking lot
because she saw me falling apart and I was all alone,
as this experience has cost me everything.
I won’t forget, the powerful feeling, somebody
that didn’t know anything about me -sitting down to ask me-
“what was troubling me?” In the most loving way.
Fully holding space for me where you couldn’t.
A very kind angel of a woman; who had other things to do
with her day, made time to save a sobbing, broken, child
from the middle of the street.

And yet you couldn’t stand to hear me
speak my truth for five minutes,
All while shaming me and wishing that I could stand in my power
and assuming me to be weak in some way.
You were preventing me from standing in my
power by trying to control the situation.
I have never once claimed to be a perfect person
or to be fully healed but I know that I am balanced
because I spend every day of my life balancing myself.
Every day has ups and downs, every week has ups and
downs, every month has ups and downs.

I deny NO FAULTS in this matter, but I am HYPER-aware
that you do not know what my faults are.
You have not opened yourself up to hearing me
acknowledge my issues. You have
created the ones that, you THINK I’m having
in your head based on your perception of self,
all whilst screaming “projection” from the rooftops
and pointing at others. Anxiety is consuming.

It’s hard to fathom that somebody could be giving you
information from a place that you’ve forgotten about.
I only wanted to warn you and I only wanted to protect you.
You only wanted for me to stop trying to protect you;
until you realized what it was I was trying to protect you from.
The only person who can protect you is yourself and
Source, yet Source placed me in your path.
If you had only tapped into your intuition and followed
the signs, you would have understood sooner.
There could have been less pain.

Hypocrisy.

You encourage me not to people please,
but ask me to bow in silence before you while
you relieve your own anxieties so that you can go about
your day while leaving a heavy weight on my chest.
You thought that you had conquered me in that moment.
In your mind, you had faced something you needed to face
and you were breaking through to the other side!
This was going to project you in the right direction!
This will remove the heaping weight from your chest!
This was going to bring your clarity.

Transference.

Instead, you felt me pull away; energetically and physically.
You realized that you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too.
But you were fasting anyways, funny how we’re both always fasting these days.
Or is that just anxiety and an upset stomach?
Is that just bad choices and poor communication?
You felt a weight over the next few days,
Because what goes up must come down.
You left that weight with me, but it always finds its way back.

Obedience.

You expressed your need to control things
and for people to bend to your will.
You clearly communicated what you wanted
and expected and were shocked when I tried to
tell you where I stood because this wasn’t about me,
it was supposed to be about you today!
I sensed that in asking what you did wrong
you were already preparing a response and not
open to actually listen, my intuition said “say less”.
Silence speaks volumes and communication
can be conveyed through just a look,
especially when I look into your eyes.
There is intense honesty and passion in all three of them.
The things that you can’t verbalize are written in your retina.
As your brain scribbles them out I can see them inside of those eyes.
I see you wholly and I know that somebody did that to you.
Someone taught you this.
Maybe a defense mechanism or maybe a learned behavior.

Boundaries.

Don’t talk about it.
Swallow that pill to avoid hurting me,
but don’t forget, “that’s people pleasing.”
“Respect you” and “please you” is a very thin line with you.
Sure as I am your mirror, you think the same is true about me.
I was working hard at my prosperity;
feeling a silly little sigh of relief,
that maybe I was crazy and the communication
and confrontation wouldn’t occur that day.
My dreams and intuition both told me that it would.
People in my physical reality said that it wouldn’t;
they had high hopes that it wouldn’t, out of selfishness.
Fearing what they would feel or how it would affect them,
they have been gaslighting me for months.
Who will ever respect my boundaries?
My needs?
My person.
Only me.
I can only trust myself.
Don’t they always say “It’s lonely at the top.”
It doesn’t have to be.

On the battlefield.

You saw me and came directly towards me,
while I had five minutes to myself to dance and feel free.
You stopped in on my day to put me back in your cage.
Mind you, I had fiddled that lock open two weeks prior and found my freedom.
You came back to make sure that the lock was secure.
I was fine one minute and my boss watched me
being happy and free and helpful. Then she watched
me being shackled by you and then she watched you
storm through like a wrecking ball, leaving me at
disadvantage to my own pockets and essentially hers.
And then I watched you all day, watching me.
You were pulling at my energy when I was
trying to pretend you didn’t exist.
You stunted my growth and my productivity
for the need to propel yourself forward.
I am not the enemy and I am not to be conquered.
We could have helped each other to move in the
same direction, but you NEEDED,
You demanded to be 10 steps ahead of others.
Congratulations commander.
The medal of honor you have
earned is associated with a casualty.

Greed.

I watched you watching me,
looking to see if I was watching too,
questioning what it all means and
if you made the right choices, said the right words.
You didn’t. There were no right words.
Until that point you did all of the talking and
so did I, but neither of us really heard anything
other than our own minds stirring.
We are so alike that it hurts.
To absolutely face yourself hurts.
You confuse me so much.
I read cards and people
effortlessly, but I like the mystery that is you and
I don’t like to pick it apart too much.
I know that the pages will turn on your time.
That’s the respect that I have for you, that you can’t see.

Victim mentality.

You talk about Victim mentality,
but you don’t acknowledge
that you keep acting like
I’m doing something to you….
Don’t you remember that you did this to me?
You started all of this. You triggered it.
You were thinking with organs other than your heart
And you expected me to follow suit, on your terms.
You treated me like a play thing because you didn’t
See what was right in front of us both.
Once you set this in motion there was no
way to turn the wheels back and I couldn’t help myself.
I wasn’t supposed to.
And because I didn’t help myself in that moment,
I helped us both in a greater sense.
Thank me instead and thank the universe for this
while you’re in Noché Oscura del alma.
Know that there is a purpose behind it,
even though you don’t understand that purpose, yet.

Baggage.

I know that things are happening for me and not to me,
but it is my deep diving into the pain and into my dark feelings
that allows me to be the creative person that you admire.
It is the darkness that I have endured
that helps my light shine so bright.
You cannot have half of me because
I do not give half of myself to anyone.
I am a whole package.
I come wrapped as such.
If you cannot accept this package, as is,
it does not come in parts.
You cannot find any other like this package,
it is one of a kind.
If you cannot accept my darkness and my
baggage then there is nothing more to say.

Every person who has ever come into my life
has had to accept both parts of me and the ones
that have are still by my side. I have 15 year friendships.
Nothing that is good or worth it is ever easy.
The things that we put time and effort into, they strengthen and they stay.
I would like to face adversity together, but for now you
want to do that alone so I respect you, and I release you.
But I’ll never let this go.

This will be something I remember for the rest
of my life, for the rest of my lovers,
for the rest of my friendships,
and for the rest of eternity.
Any pain that I have felt in this connection
will reverberate throughout my entire being
for the rest of my existence
until I find myself in this situation
in the next life again with you.
Every time we repeat the cycle,
it becomes harder and harder in the next life,
but the story becomes greater and greater each time,
until we get it right.

Surrender.

Our love story is so great.
The notebook pales in comparison.
Many will cry watching this love blossom
including the ones who doubted and
including the ones who believed.
It is going to shake us both to our core,
but at some point that’s going to start to feel good.  
If we allow it.

We just have to learn to let go of control.
The divine creator knows our true purpose
and we need to learn to surrender to that
because everything else up until the
moment that we do, is resistance.

You are resisting the change as the momentum
is picking up and you’re propelling yourself in the
wrong direction by trying to hold onto control with
something that does not want to be tamed.
I think about lecturing you; but instead,
I write it down, because it’s a lecture that
I need to read to myself. Sure as I am your mirror,
I am doing the same things wrong as you.

Just open your heart and learn how to truly love
people as they are asking to be loved
People deserve that, but if you can’t
love me the right way just let me go.
I cannot keep going on this winding road with you.
You energetically are still attached to me,
even though you tell me the opposite is true and it hurts us both.
I cannot live in shadows and I will always speak my truth.
I’m selective with who I share my energy
because I do not want everybody to know
how I move in this world, but I am always
honest with those that are around me.

I keep my hands at 10 and 2
But I’ll let you control the gas
pedal because we are driving at your pace,
I’m comfortable with this until you slam on the brakes
and we both realize, a moment too late,
that I’m not wearing a seatbelt.
My heart exposed and my person untethered,
I’ve been ejected.
Don’t bring the sunflowers to my funeral.
You have taken all of the sun out of this for me.
Nothing can grow here,
They will only wilt in a few days.
Useless.
What’s the use of this gift.
You can’t heal what’s already dead.

I’m scared that not right now,
means not in this life.
I don’t want to do that again.
Losing you is losing hope.
You are the reason that I come around.
You are also the reason that I stay away.
© KD 10/2/22
This is an excerpt from a book I’m writing about my life.
I am a guy.
Just a guy.
Not an "ummm...technically."
or "biologically female."
Not: "used to be a girl",
"Thinks she's a guy",
"Doesn't dress like a boy",
"What she got between her legs?",
"Wears makeup",
"Doesn't pass"-

Gender norms literally **** people.

Every "I'm sorry" is just a peeling paint job
over an intercity wall,
no one really wants to look at,
or fix,
or admit to.

This is not a problem I brought on myself.
My gender is not a problem,
You are the problem.

I'm not running from what's inside me anymore,
I know what's inside me,
I've made peace with what's inside me
It's the same old, same old,
with a new set of words
you ******* can't wrap your tongues around.

I don't care if you slipped up,
Fix it.
I don't care if you didn't know I was a boy,
Fix it.
I don't care about your cis guilt, cis excuses, or cis ignorance
Fix it.

Because you don't know the age limit
not to be Emily anymore.
The hundreds of dollars it costs.
Every: "Hello Ladies",
every "Sorry Miss",
every "What can I do for you Ma'm",
every "You'll always be my niece-"
"My daughter",
"My girlfriend".

The cis questions,
cis answers,
cis stares,
cis disinterest in my ******* feelings.

I am not going to hold your hand
and politely explain to you that
I
AM
NOT
MY
GENITALS.
That's your job cis people.
Fix it.

Every misgendering is peeking through the veil
of how people really perceive you.
It's all just a game they play along
with in your presence.
Going along with a trance they think
you've put yourself in.

They don't really see you,
When all it takes is
changing a single word
in one ******* sentence.
That would be no inconvenience to them,
But makes or breaks the world to you.
Covering it up with a strained smile,
Lying that it's fine.

Is it even a question that over 70%
of trans people **** themselves,
as opposed to 1% of the general population.
It makes so much ******* sense to me.

Because trans means knowing
I will never be properly gendered by a stranger,
Unless I get a **** I don't ******* want.
Being trans is waking up everyday
with the guarantee you can not
use the bathrooms in public.

Can't be called a guy
Hearing: "Emmett? That's a weird girl's name."
Having people ignore you
When you're on the verge of tears
begging them not to see
your soft curves and small chest and skirt
as one big sign that says 'SHE'.

Then being told:
"It's not their fault,
people just don't know."
"You have to be more understanding,
more patient -
be nicer about it."

How 'bout applying that to yourself?
Don't tell me I have to be kinder
about being denied my identity everyday.
Don't tell me to shut up about a system
so ingrained in my brain
I still misgender myself.

It's gaslighting,
A society denying reality
And telling us we are the confused ones.
The crazy ones.
For veering outside these neat little boxes
ahem, cages
of made up rules
they've tried to lock us into.

The consequences are absolutely deadly.
Is it any question
That people bleed themselves dry
Get drunk, get high
just to escape it all?

Then get thrown into a 'health care system'
for attempted suicide,
get misgendered by the nurses and doctors
who ignore why they're there in the first place.
Then denied hormones for their
'mental instability'.

We are thrown into a world of glass ceilings
and imaginary borders
with all too real consequences.

Make no mistake,
We are not dangers to ourselves.
You absolutely put us here.

Blame it on whatever generation or
individual you want,
but we are all participating in cisnormativity
if you are not constantly unlearning.

If you equate genitals with gender,
Ask what the baby's going to be -
As if it ******* matters -
Don't think to ask pronouns and get it wrong,
See every character, every face on TV
that doesn't look like ours,
have everything catered
to the way you turned out to be,

That's privilege is our danger.
The gaps in judgement
and consideration for our situations
is where we live
and our destined to fall.

Because when someone hits you with a car
It doesn't matter of they didn't see  you,
didn't mean to,
have never done it before,
are the nicest person in the world -
They ****** up.
And it still hurts.

Sure, if they meant to
it would be worse,
But I'm through with this rhetoric
about intent.

Don't think this is too drastic a comparison,
Gender norms literally kills people.
Every mark of 'self-harm' on our arms
Is a scar society put there.
Every trans suicide is a ******.

The question isn't why
we are killing ourselves.
It's how the ****
are we still alive.
BR May 2018
I am afraid of speaking.
I am afraid of the texture of my voice, and the effect it will have on you.
I don't want to be pressed into the caricature of an angry woman; voice raised in what they call a hysterical display of emotion.
Calm down. Be rational.

Stop being
So
Dramatic.

Well let me tell you something:
I am an angry woman.

Because all I can see is my best friend’s blonde head, coming within an inch of becoming the crushed drywall beneath his fist.
All I can see is the false piety painted on his pastor’s face, asking, “well… did he hit you?”

I see her eyes closed in the darkness, fingers gripped in the sheets he tore off of her body to wake her. She has to hold on to something.
He says, “Show me you're enjoying it.”


Calm down. Be rational.

Like he wasn't gaining access INTO her BODY by FORCE. Like, of course it's her job to lay down and take it. Like it. Lick his lips for the taste of honey, because honey, he told you to.

but it's poison. It enters her bloodstream, weakening her will to resist it.

She looks at her phone, at a text she did not compose herself, or send,
“Hey hot stuff. When you see this, let's have ***.
“If I pretend I didn't write this I'm just playing hard to get.”

Do you get it?

Yeah. I am an angry woman.

Stay calm, dear sister. Be rational.
Rationalize the gaslighting, because the big picture doesn't look beautiful when you hang it above the sofa; and her home was staged to look like a family so that when you look in the window, you don't see that she was a hostage.
You don't see that her son was asleep in the bed when he grabbed her face between his hands and crushed it,
And called it “gently redirecting her gaze.”

From the window, you can't see his body blocking the exit.
You can't see her baby, with his little fingers curled around her *******, begging for comfort.

I will not calm down. And in case you are so damaged by devotion to comfort that you can't see it, it is right to be angry.

It is righteous.

I am angry, and more rational than I have ever been in my entire life- rationally, righteously begging for justice to flow down like rivers.

I am an angry woman.
Braden Apr 2019
i don't want to play
your sadistic games
you try your best
to pull my reins

i know my worth
more than gold of earth
i love you so i let you
hurt me so so so much
Monotone Oct 2021
Why do I do this?
Why do I drop everything for you?
Every time I get hurt.
And even now I feel so numb and sad-
and we’re not even dating.
I’m so loyal to someone who is using me.
You don’t even want me.
And I’m saying this-
But the moment you call,
I’ll come running back.
Because I’m weak and I know-
I know you have some good in you.
You’re not an awful person-
Or wait.
Am I gaslighting myself?
Am I making excuses for you again?
****.
Am I dumb? Am I blind?
You haven’t really changed have you?
But I love you.
And it hurts me.
****, I love you.
Why don’t you love me?
E Aug 2020
what makes you feel granted
manhandling my memories
stirring up my experience
diagnosing with no credentials
gaslighting feelings of fear
forcing to question what happened
mind entering a storm
chaos now runs free roam
flashbacks and dreams
dialogue and overwhelming voices
speaking over another
talking me into a box
leaving me there alone
he pulls the chain around it
and imprisons me with a lock

my teeth chatter when I’m anxious
body starts to shake
hands begin to clench
skin feels wave of heat
and I start to feel faint
stomach tells me I’m in danger
heart throbbing in concert with a clock
my face emotionless and stale
as I try to mask what puts me in more danger
of not feeling collected and vulnerable
trusted if I break a sweat they’ll see
make a sudden movement and touch
touch my soft skin marked with scars
I question which body part is next
as I sit in a freezing shock
that limits my movement
ability to think
and speak
as hands go and *****
I scream so loud
but nobody hears me
I am silent
lips unmoved
internal thoughts crying
there is so much to say
but I can’t get myself to speak
and I want those ***** hands off
but I can’t seem to move
body paralyzed
I start unpacking this to the darkness
never to be opened for my safety
throwing away the feelings
destroying what it felt like
is better than keeping it alive
so please
don’t touch me like that
had a traumatizing day.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                                  Gaslighting

Am I being gaslighted?
Or am I being gas lit?
Whichever way the verb might be
The gaslighter is full of (it)
Kathrine Jul 2020
At first I wanted to please you,
I gave in just to appease you.
But your requests were at my expense
And your complaints began to stretch.
It wasn’t just the things I did “wrong”
But who I am, and what I said
Then you changed what I had meant,
And put crazy worries in my head...
David Mikosz Jun 2019
A word I hate
that you started to use
to describe anything that limited you
That now I fear.

18 years we were together
true the last few years had issues
but there always seemed something
worth saving as a friend and family.

When we talked about us
and what was happening
I would ask you why you said things
you would say your words don't mean that.

You even said you were surprised
that I was not more supportive
of your first affair
because I was your friend.

But you left for another
and another and now
maybe two more - a new reality
and with seeming amorality.

Oh I know I need to let you go
tis what I tell our daughter
who reads your texts
and is more aware than you know.

But how can I keep hold of a vision
that love means something real
that its is more than ****** adventure
when I start to doubt reality.

How do you come back to love
when you see a cruel mockery of it?
How do you find peace and comfort
in lonely, though pure, isolation?

I am not seeking righteous shaming
but rather acceptance of what is.
but at the same time I cannot say
your is; is right or good or true.

How can you watch another
live in a parallel and twisted reality
while the people we know pretend
that both of us share the same world.

I guess that is my challenge
I can define my reality
through words I believe in
and that keep the same meaning.

Love, trust, partnership and passion
Family, children, kindness and fun
these shall be my building blocks
to build a new reality amidst the dispair.
Jade Nov 2023
Maybe he didn’t burn you
in the literal sense;
but gaslighting is its own
misogynistic brand of conflagration.
Yenson Nov 2018
WORDS GANG STALKERS DO NOT WANT TO HEAR

The first, of course, is the “G” word. No explanation necessary.

GANG STALKING

VIGILANTE

The gang stalking recruits are of course being recruited into a cult for the purpose of carrying  out vigilante activity. As we all know the same authorities who “do not have the resources” to protect you from burglars, gang intimidation, vandalism, mugging, ****** assault, etcetera, are not short of resources to deal with the least whiff of vigilantism, as people desperately try to protect themselves. The recruiters of course do not wish their recruits to be reminded that they are engaging in vigilante behaviour, so I remind them at every opportunity.

CULTS

The methods the recruiters use are classic cult methods. The recruit is told lies while their emotions are manipulated; they are not told the true agenda of the cult they have been tricked into joining; they are given targets to hate and vent their frustrations on; they are enslaved and over time leached of all their resources; their children will also be indoctrinated and used. People know joining a cult is a bad thing. So at all costs the recruiters wish to keep the idea of cults away from their recruits. Again, I make a point of reminding them.

CON ARTISTS

Another word/concept the recruiters want the recruits to forget. Again, another rich source of conversation with a gangstalker.

COVERT WAR
A major tool in the gangstalkers weaponry is successfully keeping the practice of gang stalking a secret. Most people not being stalked and many who are have never heard the term gangstalking and do not know what it means – a major Orwellian coup. Getting the word out is a major difficulty. From this point of view the words – covert war – are hated by gang stalkers. Both words, and especially in combination attract peoples notice and naturally induce them to read further.

FAIR GAME (Scientology)

Remember the film “Fair Game”. Odd title don’t you think when the story line had nothing to do with Scientology. The story based on fact about the betrayal of a CIA agent betrayed by her own government.

Gang stalkers do not like mention of Fair Game because the methods of Fair Game and gang stalking are identical. The existence of Fair Game tactics are acknowledged, but the response of authorities to gang stalking is to assert dogmatically that gang stalking does not exist and any who claims it does need the help of a psychiatrist.

MAFIA

The authorities do not wish people to be reminded of the Mafia. Many gang stalking methods and Mafia methods are identical, particularly the diverse rackets both gang stalkers and Mafia engage in. Infiltration of legitimate businesses, exploitation of labour, housing scams, protection money, and controlling people such as medical personnel who can make ” mistakes” in medical treatment, or an office worker who can “lose” or corrupt private data.

STASI

If the STASI were not the creators of Zerzetsen, they were the world’s foremost practitioners – a massive state spying apparatus which created as many spies as citizens. Gang stalking and Zerzetsen are identical.

dailykos.com/story/2010/10/12/909826/-ZERZETSEN-TORTURE…

WORDS THAT GANG STALKERS WANT EVERYONE TO HEAR

SCHIZOPHRENIA

After the primary objective of gang stalkers to keep awareness of gang stalking from public knowledge is the secondary objective to ensure that if anyone comes across the concept of gang stalking or targeted individuals it will be immediately linked with insanity. The purpose of gaslighting behaviour is to make the person on the receiving end look insane.
Joshua Boyd Sep 2020
Eau de parfum

Top notes include

Remembering yourself
Feeling whole
Noose exchanged for
New sensations
Comfortable silence

Weather-able storms
Midnight cuddles
Dances to favorite songs

Middle Notes Include

Questioning your judgement
Tracking location
Locating peace of mind through
Stress
Password checks
Controlling the way you dress
Block them next
They're flirting.
Not your friend.

Base is comprised of

Gaslighting
Emptiness
Walls closing in
Toxic environment
Bruised chins
Lighting gas
Arson
Destruction of property
Assault
Verbal and mental anguish

This scent lasts 6 months to a lifetime
Chris D Aechtner Nov 2021
BLAST   —   direct focus on a terrorist virus
that swims in breath and touch,
in globules of spittle and ssnot see,
waiting to plant roadside RNA bombs
in nostrils—from flesh to newsflash fantasies

with

a Fear-O-Meter Lockdown grip
of Crisis Management Economics:
Gaslit Fiat economy crash test dummies
tested within psychosocioschizological
experiments of the psychobacteriological

transfer of power, control, and wealth—

stats data for thinktanks and simulations:
which strategies are best to get the peasants  
to willingly offer up their lives for an illusion
of safety and protection, what causes people
to remain compliant or to become renegades.

Capitalism, the revolutionary meant to usurp
Queens and Kings, corrupted into a negative
Technocratic Corporatocracy: a Royal Trash
death cult that feeds on its young, sacrifices
its youth to scams, wars, and stolen futures:

a Technocrat Herr Doktor drug pusher
that plies the skin of trial control groups
for the venom of Warpspeed fangs—wraps
its coil around a bundle of willow switches
supple with youth, its victims kept alive

as a fuel source to burn in the corporate engine, and kept weak enough to require another fix "For the betterment of the whole."

(Gaslighting fills mandated shower-coops:
"Trust us, you're sick, and it's your fault.")

Pollute people into isolation against an enemy that has never been truthfully isolated and purified—
an Orwellian leap of faith that breaks:
a crusher of foundational laws,
a crusher of critical thought and bones.

"Destroy (transform) your dreams, milestones, and livelihoods for your safety and protection. We are doing this for you. We care about you. These numbers, these awful numbers are your fault! You're to blame! It's all your fault!"

"Make sure to vote for me come next election."

As much as North America is a globalist,
the New World is also its own experiment.
Fortress North America: the Eugenicist Manager founded upon colonialism and slavery that outsources its crisis economics—
highly contagious, bit with its own snake oil,
an experiment observed to show symptoms
of AIDS, North America attacking itself
in many ways, symptoms of having been
grazed and groomed for decades

in contagion-based sociopolitical templates
that result in acquired bipolar autoimmune
disease: past enemies and geists attained
boosted immunity to defend, adapt—learned
to deflect Sun Tzu's Art of War into itself

with its own momentum. "Unrestricted
Psychological Warfare": a process of confusion and doubt that leads to the demoralization and dehumanization of the target enemy via the subversive tactics of propaganda plowing, cultural memetic warfare, the infection of economy, politics, military, scientific and educational institutions and systems—
cybertech and media espionage and warfare,
all of it leading to symptoms of extreme

polarization and social moral tribalism—
a decades-long psychological, physical
and spiritual draining of the enemy
into a weakened, toxic state, barely worthwhile to conquer fully. The enemy does the rest,

finishes itself off with:

Acquired (Red Auto)ImmunoDefiency Syndrome

Red CONtroll COVID-19 debt slavery—
pandemic crisis, CoVfefe crisis, energy crisis,
population crisis, climate crisis, racism crisis,
market crisis, war crisis, terrorism crisis,
ISIS is is cry sis in crisis and crisis
in crisis debt slavery to the State: Toadies

for the "New Normal" Big Pharma-Big Tech
mechanical heart engine that thrums
with a beat that Zooms in on, Zooms out from
false-positive test results amplified

and distorted into AIDS:

Amplified Information Distortion Syndrome

and

an Acquired ImmunoDeficiency Syndrome
in conjunction with a near-infinite number
of variables and determining factors—
an Auto-ImmunoDeficiency Syndrome of
body, mind, soul, and political systems
cruising along an acquired, contagious loop
of a negative-sense RNA socialist Autobahn—

highly contagious, highly experimental in
unprecedented moments of crisis and mirrors: reflections of reflections of reflections
amplified and bent
in sleight-of-hand misdirection and deflection with the virus holding a mirror's face outwards

while

an mRNA 'treatment' infects human cells
to conquer and command them to become
bomb making factories that create
SARS-CoV-2 S-proteins—yes, yes, "inactively" teach T-cells with double-think McCure-all bandAIDS to 'help' identify SARS-CoV-2 RNA. Understood. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction

(for the Terrorist within)

"Here's a fast-tracked vaccine that supposedly boosts the immune system that you're being commanded to weaken."

GMO sleeper cells and non-celled sequences
that can attain causality and symbiosis with
drug and antibiotic resistant organisms,
are sold as the cure that ills

and

misdiagnosed and misunderstood symptoms
of anything and everything
in-between that we've known and seen
are blamed on a laboratory Chimera:

the scapegoat terrorist virus designed
to be highly contagious and gentle to its host
for vaccine programs: Mary's Monster attaining the flame of life within
its Promethean host.

Who made who?

Who knew that the FDA NIH CDC
WHO-Fang North American China Flu Clan

flew the fear and media spread. "Wait for our
next update." Live TV, live virus

with billions of shortsighted treatments
adding ripples to an overflowing soup bowl
of trillions x trillions of RNA particulates,

inactive/active — off/on — negative/positive

Switch:

Spin PCR in the Petri dish:
One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish!
What a lot of fish there are!

This one has a little yellow star.....

("Mission Accomplished")
1 17 2021
rook Sep 2014
Spare me your narrow mind --

the sharp edges of your thoughts cut deep into flesh better suited to bruise

Don't twist your words into the gaslighting of a sociopath

You smile in them, but I've come to realize it is the smile

of a wicked ticking crocodile

and I'm out of time.

Five is the magic number - phalanges to syllables to tiles on a floor.

Five years rambling around in the darkest of green eyes, in the raw fiber of sultry voices,

in the streetlight suburbs of an Orange city.

Weakness, vulnerability, idiocy -- your words to describe what I prefer to term

Optimistic, good-natured, hopeful.

Someone seeking the best in people.

I assure you, your words fit much better now. You saw to that.

You saw to everything, pulled on strings that would have been better off frayed.

You tasted of evergreen, made everything so clear and fresh

It was natural to confide in you, garner your unique perspective on the course of life

Not unique, of course, but so very rare, so very ******* coveted.

You always were the con artist, my love.

The taste of your bitter ash might come from the fact that you ******* us all over

So perfectly.



I really should have known better.
Fiiiive years, I hate this poem but in a way i need it up here
J Dec 2016
The next time you miss him,
or want to take him back,
look down at the scars on your arm,
and remember that he will always be a part of
who you are

What do you miss more?
Gaslighting so strong you shook yourself to sleep and let exhaustion run so deeply in your veins you're tired a whole year later?
Or the nights he kept you awake just to argue and bring to attention every flaw you've ever had and how you were so unlovable he'd be the only person to ever tolerate you?

Next time you miss him,
Look down at the scars on your arm
And remind yourself
you don't need to be tolerated
you are art
Jill Nov 3
Your cruel words are cursory
Mean less than null to me

Don’t need a PhD
Learnt more in nursery

Sweet song of ‘helping me’
No more than sophistry

Pick out the forgery
Lies with no artistry

Flowing in, eyeless grin
Sugary medicine

Gaslighting, infighting
Snarl under strobe-lighting

Saccharine blathering
Indolent flattering

Backhanded compliments
Heard without inner sense

I reject totally
Self-slighting sorcery

Callous affrontery
Bankrupting bursary

I have observed more
Preserved more

Have learned more
Deserve more

Have value
Don't argue

Can trust me
I must be

Enough being
just, me

So hear me,
my dear me,
coz now we agree

I am worthy
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (cursory) date 3rd November 2024. Done or made quickly.
Magdalyn Aug 2015
GAD
10/4/14
Those minutes
those mornings when I wake up and it feels I'm back at day one
and I'm still made of clay, and God himself
took his thumbs
and hollowed out my eye sockets
and never filled them.

(what do I write now?)

My ponytail is brushing the small of my back.
I'm staring at my reflection on the computer screen
and I'm not liking what I'm seeing.

(Stop talking about yourself.)

They say "write what you know", and yet
I can only write about myself.

(shut up.)

Knives. Earwax. Squeals.
What is my life made of?
In a day, I'll be back
at my temple of jitters.
(School).
(maybe there's something wrong with you, the way you brought those glasses to the kitchen,
that you drank the same liquid from, and your stomach
felt like it was holding water bottles full of blood, instead of organs)

10/13/14

Why do you have to make me feel so **** guilty all the time?
When we stood on the grey carpet in Spirit Halloween
the animated screams pushing against my torso
with your gaslighting, my head/heart/hair caught fire
and nobody won.

I feel like I deserve better than this, but what could be better than
these moments?
At least, later, I will have photos to lighten
in my sweatpants
and my designated sweatshirt for when I feel like ****.

And the inside of my mouth tastes like
those screams, from the wrinkled, blackened plastic
and the oil from our un-fluffable bangs.

I know tomorrow I'll be
busy ******* up christmas songs
and leaning on bus windows
and sleeping in the jumpy skin I've built myself
out of bad breath, smudged makeup,
and curly-haired boys,
So I should be grateful.
But when it feels like you've drained bottles of stage blood into my veins
and I am not real anymore
and instead of eyeshadow, my eyelids are weighed down
with toxic thoughts that, instead of coming from my mental lips,
come from your physical ones,
I will not be happy.
I'm sorry.
(You know you had fun. Stop it. You had a hell of a great time, and a bad aftertaste will never get rid of the taste of the absence of loneliness in those pictures.)
---
Me to myself: why are you like this?

(And also, why is it that
you always have more things to say
even when this program is closed
the typing has stopped
you come back
hungry for the attention you'll never get?)

---

10/24/14
I know people will ask
how my right shin got so scratched up and shredded
and maybe I will tell them
It got that way when I crawled out the window
and not that I sat on the bathroom floor
crying tears that felt pink, the way they darkened my face
and I dug my nails into my flesh
and dragged them.

I wish I could do something poetic with the stinging pain, like
cut off all my hair, or most of it
because It made me look like a wild animal, when
I walked, shoe-less, on the streets.
Or I could have scars on my leg, and be reminded
of the pain I inflicted on myself
(and others)
today
---
11-3-14

Oh ****, I fell in love again.
...
Is it love, Or is it
a childlike infatuation
with the idea of a crush
?
Do I have affections for you, or am I attracted
to the idea of you?
Am I just bored? Do I only like that you like me,
that you make me feel relaxed?
Maybe, or maybe it's
the sugar-high-ish, ache-y feeling
I get when I see you in the corner of my eye
or our legs brush up together
(Thank god it's not lust).
---

_
This is the color of anxiety:
Red, like the blood I wish I could expose with a sharp, small movement, but can't, just can't (you can't even hurt yourself correctly. Worthless.)
Orange, like the pumpkins in the halloween store I tried to have fun in, but the snake of uneasiness squeezed my ribs too tight until I couldn't breathe, orange like the light I saw in the middle of the night.
Yellow, like the sunshine that I wanted to run into, but I didn't let myself, a watery color like what my voice sounds like sometimes.
Green, like the leaves on the rock I sat on
when I ran from myself, my house
and cried, cried, cried (once is enough, *******).
Blue, the color I thought my tears would be, but they were just a salty clear, dripping down my face, and changing nothing.
Purple, like the bruises that I don't remember getting, but press on anyway, relishing the pain in a sort of ******-up way, thinking "Whenever, wherever, however you got this, you probably deserved it."
Pink, like the insides, and outsides, of my eyelids when I can't sleep at night, arguing with myself.
Brown, like the dirt that I imagine
cakes the wormlike workings of my brain, in the area where
self-sympathy and control was.
Black, like the centers of my eyes
that I see when I look in the mirror and think
"****, did I look like this all day?"
And, anxiety is the colors in between, too. Navy and tan and white and gold.
Yes, it's all the colors, because it's everywhere, and most of the time, I can't get away from it.
(God, could you've made that any more melodramatic? Yeah, you have dark moments, but you make it sound like every aspect of your life is drenched in manic-depressive bile, which, my dear, is ridiculous.)
---
this is a mini-journal, epic-poem kind of thing that I wrote to deal with my generalized anxiety disorder. I didn't want to upload it in parts so here you are. A big mess of a thing.
I told myself I wanted all of her
But I never wanted her blame shifting
Her gaslighting
Her traumatic bonding
Her disorientation
Her playing the victim
Her cruelty
To happen
And it would be easier to cope with
If it actually hadn't.

It would've been easier
If I'd been the crazy one
Because then I might've had the power to fix it
If again I could go back to the time
When I clung to her lap
And she ran her fingers through my hair
And said, "Your head's really ****** up, isn't it?"

If I could go back to my "data acquisition"
And be okay when she refused to give me answers
When she refused to tell me what we were
Or if I meant a thing to her
So I couldn't hold her to expectations
Or have them
Because I meant nothing to her
But she couldn't tell me that until I tried to end it
She just let me say "I love you," and didn't say it back
(Except for the few times she slipped just to keep me trapped).

She told me that it was all in my head
And then that I wasn't imagining anything
In the same paragraph.
She told me she was "over this"
But wouldn't tell me what "this" was
When I was the one crushed under it.
She let me chase that conversation
And played with me
And told me, "You're just going to have to be confused then.
This is my straight forward response.
The truth is, I'm sorry but you will have to deal with it."
But I didn't want to deal with it.
I just had to.
And all I wanted was the truth
But I still don't have it
And I don't know how it can stare her in the face
And she can still deny it

I don't get how she can torture me for months
And not have the decency to say, "Yeah, I did it,"
So I can rest.
I don't get why I still need her validation
Why I still tried so desperately to get it
Why the army behind me isn't enough

But it has to have something to do with her saying,
"I am not your ex. I am nothing like your ex.
You need to be able to collect the data in front of you and dissociate from past trauma.
Seriously,"
Every time I tried to defend myself from her actions
Until I stopped trying because I was too busy trying to analyze my own
Or, "You tell me all your thoughts,
I go through them with you
Confirming. Or. Denying."
Like she was the omniscient authority
The objective standard by which the validity of my feelings and perceptions were measured.

I think it's because
It'd be easier to cope with
If it hadn't actually happened,
So I convinced myself it wasn't happening
And I'm still struggling to believe it.
It'd be easier
If it was all in my head
Because then I'd have something to be certain of
(Even if it was only my uncertainty)

And I wouldn't have to admit to myself
That I was in love with a sociopath.
I wouldn't have to wonder
Whether or not she did it on purpose.
I wouldn't have to face the fact that I feel abused and broken
And empty
And like there's a hole in me I'm not sure how to fix
That I allowed to be drilled there.
Cattatonicat Jun 2020
Everybody acts like they do no harm
At the sight of the truth,
We say no that's not mine that's yours
What a showmanship

Gaslighting 101 should be a gen-ed course
Professor preach to me, watch out for the ones you care for
They will burn you alive
They will laugh while you turn into ashes and tears

All in the name of love,
I'll sin like a saint and bless like a sinner

Funny seeing you be upset with me
For not carrying your weight anymore
It was never mine to carry, and I don't mind you being upset
Because you never stopped to think,
oh, she's crushing under the weight,
I should carry my share

I'm not here for your convenience
I'm here to die we all are

All my best friends are losing their innocence
And I miss our innocence
Very much, very much so

All in the name of love,
I'll sin like a saint and bless like a sinner
Ginn Mosxa Feb 2023
I think
What breaks my heart the most
Isn't the abuse,
It isn't the lies, or the
Gaslighting,
No,
It's probably the fact
That you'll never see us
The way I did.

We could never have been
Because you never
Ever
Wanted it to be.
You saw me as a stranger, when I thought we were family.

— The End —