Steve Rogers » Imagines & Preferences

Steve » Voices

This came from ME. Everything you read, it's real. Everything I think about myself and everything people have told me. All of it.

And I just wanted to share this.

(This was written for another book- TØP imagines, for Tyler, but I wanted to put it here first. Steve doesn't have voices. He doesn't understand, just like I don't except any of you to.)

Currently, Steve and I sat on our bed in our shared apartment. He was trying to comfort me, the horrible memories flooding back in.

"Rachel," he said soothingly rubbing my back. "I know how it feels. Like nothing goes right, and how the voices in your head just tell you bad things. But, you need to shut them out for me."

I nodded, trying.

Remember how you didn't even tell her goodbye? What an awful daughter you are.

You need to start starving yourself again. You're a pig. You're a fat ass.

Maybe cutting yourself was the best thing you've ever done to yourself.

Hopefully you can learn to cut deep enough without chickening out this time. Don't you see? You. Have. Nothing. To. Live. For!

No one cares about you. You're just another stupid and reckless teenager who thinks her problems are worse than everyone else's. Get over it.

Just fucking realize THAT YOU DO NOT MAKE A CHANGE IN THIS WORLD AND KILL YOURSELF ALREADY!

The voices never stop. They control me. They tell me what to do. They show me what's "right", and for some reason I listen. For some reason, I let the voices control me and I let them bring out the darkness. I let them do this to me and I'm done.

They cause too much stress. Too much anxiety. Too much everything.

And those voices, they're not always in my head. They're real.

"Rachel, go crawl back to your mom. Oh wait, you don't have a mom. Boohoo. Sad sad. Weep weep."

"Get over it and open your damn eyes and realize YOU DON'T MATTER TO ANYONE."

"Drink bleach. I know how sensitive you are to this topic, so why don't you do it already?"

Those voices the worst.

Those voices are actually real and I let them control me too.

Why do I do this? I don't know. Why can't I control them instead? I don't know. Why can't I just step up and tell them to shut the fuck up? I. Don't. Know.

"Rachel, please," Steve begged gripping my hands tighter. "Shut them out!"

"I can't," I mumble, hardly audible over the throbbing in my head caused by the voices. "I CAN'T!" Steve's hands squeezed harder.

"Yes you can! I've been through this too and you've helped me! Though I was weak and beaten down you helped me up! Rachel, get up! Close them out!"

I cried harder as they kept reciting more painful words. Steve's words repeated as well.

"Close them out!"

I shut my eyes and bit the insides of my cheeks. They need to go away.

"Rachel, who cares what they think? No one. Their thoughts shouldn't matter to you. Don't listen to what others say about you. It's all bullshit. Don't listen to the negative things you say about yourself. It'll get better, even if you think it won't. And there will always be people here for you, no matter what."

I nodded my head, and opened my eyes.

Then did I realize, I'm just an addict with a pen, writing her own help. Writing her own counseling session.

I'm alone. I'm crying in an unfinished room trying to help myself. And it's all fake. All the help, it was never there.

But if the help was never there?

Never was the hurt. The awful things they said, that was there. But I let it tear me down. I let it hurt me.

And this is how I overcome my problems, sometimes. It's confusing, I know.

But when I have paper or my phone with space for me to write, I'll write out my pain.

It'll all melt away with the messy written words or the quick typing of a keyboard.

It melts away. It eases me.

And that's why I'm always on my phone.

I'm not always texting, or on Instagram.

I'm writing away my problems because no one will for me.

I just thought this would open up a window for me that I've been scared to open. It helped me show more about myself, or at least I think it did.

I'm sorry if I caused anyone to be uncomfortable reading this or to trigger them if I did.

I'll always be here, so if you need to talk I'm here.
You can:

PM me on here
Instagram- rae.wolfe (tell me it's you from wattpad)
Snapchat- rachel_ul (tell me it's you from wattpad)
Kik- american_justice (tell me it's you from wattpad)

I'm sorry if this made anyone uncomfortable, or if you don't get it. I'm sorry. But if you're judging me for doing this, just leave.

I'm sorry for being rude. But too many people judge me in bad ways and I'm tired of letting it control me.

-Rae

And I'm sorry this isn't the update you wanted.