Nibbles

therapy

you know i haven’t been proud of how i’ve been feeling lately. so lost, so desparate, so angry, so abandoned, so unloved. most of all i haven’t been proud of how felt like it wasn’t worth living if brian had given up on me. on us.

but the end of that last post shocks me. i can’t believe what i wrote. sure, janice takes the week of the week i have something to start talking about! it made me think of how much no one really knows. of the fear i used to live with. how i used to hate that there weren’t any bruises. it wasn’t bad enough for anyone to help, but enough to destroy me. i’ve known for a long time that justin reminded me of brad. that attitude.

i feel like it’s the worst idea to write this, but i wish that i could have vengence. i couldn’t comprehend what was going on then, but i can now. why did i shrink back in fear? i could have stopped it. i could have destroyed him. and it’s funny, what brad did to me doesn’t seem as bad. i’d prefer that to what justin did. brad only did that to me once.

i guess i don’t spend alot of time thinking back (haha, i just broke from my tears that were about to start when i realized that brian hates when people write “a lot” as “alot”. god i love him. i’ve tried so hard to fix that error after he casually mentioned it once!)

what was my point? i guess that i don’t spend a lot [sic] of time thinking back because it’s so bad. it’s a nightmare i lived. but i don’t know that i learned a grander lesson from it. sure i don’t think i’ll ever let a guy threaten me physically anymore, but that’s not because i hit back, it’s because i won’t get into that situation. i’ll walk away. fact is i’m scared shitless of being fucked up by some guy. of finally getting the shit kicked out of me the way i’ve always feared. but you can’t always protect yourself from getting into the situation. i could get mugged, and i guess i would just let it happen. i think that’s different, but still. point is, i walked right into this mess thinking i was safe. and when it came down to it i just let it happen to me. i’m just like my mother. i remember her telling me when i was young that she just let it happen because it was easy than fighting back and arguing with her brother over whether or not his friend just raped her. i’m not better than my mother.

i think i might find a self defense class. but what i really want is the ability to devastate some mans ability to ever think of having children the next time someone comes anywhere near crossing the line. i fucking dare them. but see that’s just how it works. you have to be sure he’s warranted it, because you can’t take it back. it reminds me of what my dad told matthew once when matt was pissed. he said “hit me. but make it count, kid. you’d better lay me out because you only have one shot.” i imagine that’s the gist of it. that’s why i never fought back.

i remember one night putting a knife under my side of the bed. brad found it. that’s the night the gouge was put in the kitchen wall. i held to the knife with all my might because i knew at that point it was a stupid idea because now i was fucked. he pinned me to the wall (why do i still remember so vividly the colors of those walls?) and kept smashing my wrist against the wall. i remember being afraid on two accounts then… not only what he’d do to me after he got it free from my hand, but also that it would fall to my feet and i wasn’t wearing shoes, and there was alot of skin along the way. i don’t remember the end of the story. i probably begged. i don’t know. i think that was the same night that i had written the poem below.

truth be told, i don’t want to work through this shit, i just want to be protected and forgiven. i don’t want to turn these stories over in my head, analyze them, look for flaws in my behaviors, figure out what caused what, and all that. it’s a life i can’t even picture as being mine. and i lived it for four years. i just want to forget.

but i want to learn how to hurt a man. there is a movie i’ve always secretly liked. it’s with jennifer lopez and it’s called “enough”. and there is an older one with julia roberts called “sleeping with the enemy”, but that one didn’t strike me as much as enough did.

okay. i feel slightly better. i’m not raging inside. i’m exhausted. i think i’m taking a sleeping pill again tonight. olivia suggested sleeping on the couch… apparently that’s why i slept so well while my brother was here. apparently it’s because it feels like someone is sleeping beside you.

oh, and on that note, i’ll have to note that for all that brad did to me after i was rid of him the hardest thing to do was to sleep alone. i guess that is what i’m going through again. at least i’m not my mother. she knew that he was never coming back.

i’m so tired.

October 1999, Lest it should be forgotten.

I sit here in the dark. I feel pretty much nothing inside.
You are in a better place, but without me.
I don’t know what to say or do.
I can’t leave because you won’t let me live without you.

Death is not an option until Life is a reality. How can you die until you’ve lived?
I wonder if I will be here, and it’ll all be the same, many years from now.
I wonder if we’ll get a divorce and move on apart from each other.

I really can’t see a future, can you?
I can’t see one day when we’ll have kids.
I can’t see one day when our brothers and sisters return.
I can’t see one day when the sun shines on us together.
I can’t see one day when you dance with me.
I can’t see one day when our children are born.
I can’t see one day when they grow up.
I can’t see one day when someone else’s life continues becomes more important than our own.
I can’t see one day when you smile lovingly down at my face.
I can’t see one day when my dad is alive.
I can’t see one day when we live.
I can’t see one day when we live forever.

I don’t want it to be like this. But there seems to be a problem bigger than us.
But, you can’t fix a something that isn’t broken.
And you don’t think that there’s anything broken.

How do you love someone who isn’t themselves?
How do you love someone who isn’t alive?
How do you love someone who doesn’t notice?
How do you love someone who doesn’t reply?
I want to believe in us, but there doesn’t seem much to believe in.
I want to believe in God, but noone seems to be out there.
I want to believe in love, but there is only hate.
I want to believe in you, but you don’t seem to care.

What ever happened to when we used to talk, together?
What ever happened to when we used to cry, together?
What ever happened to when we used to laugh, together?
What ever happened to when we used to work, together?

I try so hard to look forward.
But to what?
I try not to look back,
but you do.

More and more we gain, less and less we have.
Other people envy us.
They think we’re so great.
How they would love to have someone like us,
and to love and to take.
But if only they really knew,
if only they cared.
But no one bothers,
no one dares.

Who wants to admit that something is broken,
Who wants to admit a three-cord bond that is torn?
Who wants to help when evil befalls us,
who wants to carry us thru the storm?
But up to us it is, to make it thru.
Up to us it is, to practice the things we should do.

But so far away the days seems to fade.
So far away when it all seemed so clear.
So here I sit, and there you are.
At the meeting, so close but so far.

What does it take to feel again?
What does it take to live again?
What does it take to avoid death at the end?
This letter, like all, it must end.

Do you fear death, my love, losing my life?
Do you fear the pain in my Mom’s eyes?
Do you fear answering to why I wasn’t happy?
Do you fear trying to pretend it hasn’t happened?

One day I will be gone.
One day you won’t notice.
One day I will be gone.
And no one will notice.

You’ve lost me so far.
They’ve all lost me so far.

They say when God seems far away
you should guess who moved.
I guess I’ve moved, and he doesn’t know my forwarding address.
A friend who doesn’t write,
but cares all the same?

Why doesn’t someone stop me,
from this life that I live?
Why doesn’t someone love me,
from this hate that I give?
When does it all end?

I picture my head, my hair a mess and bloody…
you accidently pushed too hard, and I hit it on the corner of the bed.

I picture my baby, laying in the toilet.
You pushed too hard, and hurt my stomach.

I think it’s better this way.
That I die so others may live.

Don’t worry I won’t kill myself,
I have someone else to do that for me.

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