Only a couple of people know me.. like really know me and I wanted some of you guys to understand where I'm coming from and why I'm so closed off and don't trust easily. This is my past and present.
Imagine waking up everyday to memories. Good ones, bad ones, happy ones, and sad ones.. Yet you keep moving forward and try to forget. I thought that drowning downs pill after pill would help me forget and it did.. only for a while.
But you can't drown out scars. The ones that are embedded in you for life. Someone asks you who stole you're first kiss. You hesitate and look away answering quietly. My dad.. Who stole your virginity? My dad.. Who took these pictures of you? Who made these bruises? Who broke these bones?... My life was a hell that I couldn't escape from. I was willing to take any way out.
Those dreadful days where his truck is parked outside of your friends house, waiting, just eager to drive you straight back to hell. Waking up with a hand covering your mouth, suffocating your screams. Soon you lost your voice. .. You gave in because what else could you do. You believed the lies even when they weren't true.. and you came accustomed to it. Around others, your family was perfect...Behind closed doors you kept that horrid secret.
You'd never invite friends to come over and couldn't if you wanted. I soon lost everyone. The people who promised they'd never leave, but when they found out how disturbed you were and how used you are.. they soon walked away.
You kept your mouth shut because that's all you could do. You were obedient and respectful. Your torn and destroyed.. The memories came beck and you believed them. You are worthless and just a toy and you didn't believe at first, but others sure proved it.
Getting shoved into walls, pushed into rivers, beatin by those who you believed in. They didn't give a damn that you were so close to leaving. They didn't given a damn that you were used to the beatings. They cared only when they wanted something out of it...
So the scars started appearing, in thin lines up your arm. It didn't relieve pain.. you just wanted someone to notice.. you just wanted someone to come and save you... someone to hold you and tell you something nice. Just one word.. one compliment.. one greeting would have made you stop. It would have made those scars fade. But it never happened.. and those scars grew, soon covering your whole body.
Poor you... you gay, attention whore, emo. Ya.. poor me.. abused, unloved, and suicidal..
