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Monday, August 8, 2011

...To be or not to be...

I came on here...wanting a distraction....my thoughts are not my friend...then again....I don't have many friends...and as it would seem that is by choice....not entirely a conscious one....but somehow a choice, never the less.

I want so badly to spill my guts. Put everything out there....tell someone how I really feel right now....but then I couldn't take it back. So I bottle it inside. Letting it eat at me. Torment me. Taunt me. Always there...just waiting to pounce on me in moments of weakness.

I know I'm stronger than this....I have been through so much in my short life. Abuse, rape, neglect...I have been beaten with belts, burnt by cigarettes, nearly drowned, shook, slapped around, humiliated, locked in a closet...and that was all before the age of 10.....I lived...through all of that and more....I survived....

I should be proud. But I feel nothing but shame.

Maybe its a matter of control. Maybe knowing what I have survived some part of my psyche feels that I deserve to choose. I don't know. I don't know why I think the way I do. Why I hate myself so suddenly....no, that's wrong....it's not sudden....it's always there...I can usually fight it off...deny it....

I am alone in this. Was faced with that fact today. There isn't one single person I feel I can tell what I'm thinking...what I'm feeling, without fear of judgement or consequence. I'm exhausted...and want nothing more than sleep, but somehow that eludes me.

A friend...the only one I have... the only person I have been able to talk to....said she thinks I just haven't gotten sick and tired enough of being sick and tired....but I am....She says my actions (going to school, working, functioning...) aren't congruent with what I am feeling...she doesn't understand that surviving....staying under the radar....trying not to make waves....being inconspicuous...that's how I was raised....how I survived childhood. I have a lot of practice at smiling through....pain....tears....reality...memory.... Kind of a morbid "fake it til you make it"....I have yet to make it....and I have no idea how to even explain this to her. Feigning functionality....it's habit....not reality....not mine....