Saturday, September 1, 2012

Let us Pray for those that were Damage with the Devastating Anger of Mother Nature

July 16, 2004

Eighteen years old, but she’s a wise child for her age. Some might even say mature before her time. It’s been two years since he came into her life. One since her life as she knew it was stolen away from her. She now knows that she needs help and she’s getting it.

This is the only want to move on. She didn’t know she had to start from the beginning. Suddenly her ‘’mature” mind disappears and the frightened little child in her appears. Not knowing what to do or how to handle the situation, she hides.

Little does she know if she keeps this up, she’ll be hiding forever? Hiding in the past, she’s unable to look forward to her bright future. The frightened child hides in the corner of her empty heart afraid to move. She never saw the future or the sun tomorrow will never come for this lost angel.

July 30, 2004

Everybody expects me to be strong. I can only hold on for so long before I start to fall apart. All of this could have been prevented. I would have to say most of this is my fault, but there’s no need crying about it now. It’s done and over with. Once again I have to start over because of one stupid mistake.

I’m scared to walk around my own house, I feel like he’s here watching me. Just plotting his next move. I jump at every little noise, my heart starts racing and then I see him. Well at least I think I see him. I’m afraid to sleep in my bed with the lights off. I keep seeing him on top of me. It doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop.

I feel like I just want to break down and cry but I’ve been holding everything in for fear of weakness. The worst thing is the public. I’ve been out the house twice now. Every time a terrifying experience. I see men looking at me. The thought of what’s going through their minds is sickening. Their eyes wounding over my body violates me.

I just want to get away from the pain. I feel alone with no one who understands how I feel. This journal is my closest friend right now. It won’t tell me I have to get over it and forget about what happened and it won’t ask me why I’m crying.

I can’t stand the skin I’m in. I can’t stand the feeling of my body anymore. I just feel so used. Every day I feel nauseated by the thought of that man on top of me. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I’ve thought about leaving but the gun is in my parent’s room and I don’t know where the bullets are. With one on to understand and talk to, I look for other ways to ease the pain.

Taking a knife from the kitchen, I hope its sharp enough to cut through the dead skin. The harder I press into the skin, the duller the blade becomes, I can’t take it anymore so I just place heat upon my wrist. Sitting there smelling my burning flesh against the heat. Knowing that I’ll get no satisfaction or relief from the pain. I stop and look at the damage I caused.

I hate the way I feel when I touch myself. Even taking a shower is hard. It’s not my hands I feel, it’s him. I hate sex and I don’t like watching it on TV. it makes me feel sick. I’m scared.

This has just begun and I feel betrayed by my mother and the system. I was lying on that cold table legs up in the air. He is outside because he can’t be in there with me. She never bothered to call to see where I was of what was happening. I just wanted her there, I was so scared and I wanted her there to comfort me. But she wasn’t. I never said anything the first time because I was scared no one was going to believe me. I told someone. I sat in the police station for two hours while the detective called me selfish for not performing oral sex. In the hospital for three hours while being looking at. With you outside and my own mother not there to hold my hands. I sit here knowing that my screams and cries of no and stop and repeated attempts to make him stop don’t mean shit.

They haven’t done shit. What the hell are they waiting for? No cop was sent out to his apartment and while he’s out there walking free, I am a prisoner in my own mind waiting for justice to be served.