Monsters Aren't Just in Your Head

Just Do It

Jacky's Journal Entry: 2/4/17 

Surrounded by people, yet I feel so alone.
I see strangers, not friends,
I have no idea where I belong.

Drowning in fear.
Crying out in the night
But they pretend not to hear.

Something weighs me down,
The fear of being gone,
Yet the happiness it shall bring.

I just don't

Nobody forced me to pick up that knife,
To shatter the unbreakable numbness,
To finally feel something inside.
A sense of desperation or anger,
No longer able to hide

Deep down I think,
That's what hurts the most.

The fear of not knowing 
What will happen after I die.

I write these poems as a last memory of myself. So whoever finds this can have an idea of what kind of bloody hell I have to live through these last days of my life. I can't do this. No one loves me. No one will care when I'm gone. They will all think:

¨Oh look it's Jacky, the attention seeking whore who killed herself¨ 

But no, I am not killing myself for the attention. Shit, I rather have no one know me so there would be a 100% chance of no one caring about me when I'm gone. No one cares about me anyways so what's the point of trying to think on the positive side. 

Tonight's the night,  right? The night when I will finally muster up the balls to finally kill myself. and leave this hellhole.So I won't have to put up with my ass hole of a stepdad who raped me when I was 8 and has been drunk and abusive ever since. So I won't have to deal with all of the bullies at school who call me Ugly, Slut, Whore, Pathetic, Bitch, and much more. That saying ¨sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me¨ is complete bullshit. They hurt. They hurt so much. And you know what else hurts? Bruises internally and externally from abusive boyfriends who lure you into a trap of calling you beautiful most of the time but then hurting you when you don't want to have sex with them because he somehow knows what is best for my own body. I can't do this anymore