The Marrero Chronicles

1:23:20

It's hard to feel understood in a world that doesn't exist for everyone as it does for you. It's something I struggle with a lot because when "normal" people go through hardships they feel as if they understand YOURS. Only the people that really have endured what I have understands me and I know none of those people and it causes me to feel alone in the world sometimes.

I don't understand how some people can look you in the eyes and tell you that you're just dramatic or things aren't as bad. You don't fucking know me. The only pain you know of my life is the ones that I have generously shared. There's so much I don't say. A lot of people look at me and just assume I'm some quiet emotionally unstable weird kid in the back of the room that likes being alone. They assume I eat alone because I worship the devil. They assume I'm innocent-that I'd never do or done something wrong or abnormal. They assume no one loves me and that I'd die a virgin. You don't know me at all.

I've done things I shouldn't have. I've inflicted physical pain on others and myself. Did you know I've been self harming since I was eleven? That my trauma scares my therapist? I bet you knew how many times I had been in the ER as a child and what I was there for. It's so disgusting for someone to be like "oh I know her, that's not true. She's fine." Newsflash sweetheart.

No one knows me. You know what I allow you to know. The only people that really know me know who they are and trust and believe it is not many. You don't get to say that I'm fine when you don't even know who I really am. What am I passionate about? What do I strive for? What are some of my goals I want to accomplish? Do you know any of that?

Of course not. All you know is that I beat myself up and treat myself like shit but I'm fine.

I self sabotage and make impulsive decisions but I'm fine.

I starve myself because I don't believe I'm beautiful but I'm fine.

I think about committing suicide when I'm at my lowest but I'm fine.

I can't talk to people I don't know because my anxiety soars through the roof - but guess what?

That's right. I'm fine.

People invalidate other peoples pain and this is what makes people not want to come out about their trauma. This is why the human race is so goddamn secretive. We KNOW you don't believe a word we say. The least you'll all do is say you can help and hide us in an institution and tell our family and friends that "we're sick but getting better in a safe place." And in that place we are still alone, and we still feel broken. We don't value us any more than we did before we got there and we fake our recovery to be miserable at home. That's the awful truth. It's ugly isn't it? The lies and the judgement and the loneliness of it all? That's life for some of us.

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A/N

I know my chapters in this book have been shorter than usual but I just don't know how to expand on how I feel sometimes and I'm also working on my romance novel at the same time AND something new and I suck at multitasking.