There is always an escape; Twisted Gløry

༺End of the beginning༺

TW; Mention of abuse, mental illnesses

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He's always been like this, and it's never been different--I'd never rather have it another way. I'm addicted to coming home with red wrist marks, and being able to hide my abuse, being able to wear hoodies whenever the fuck I want, dance around my room, tilt my head and breathe. Every time I blink in the shadows and open my eyes white light blinds me.

"But I don't like guitar, and if I tell him that he'll get mad"

"Just tell him."

I ignored you for months, I never touched you, I lied about playing you to make my dad happy--if I'm never making myself content, nothing for me will be.

I had you held in my arms, running the palms of my fingers along your details. The mix of dark and oak wood covered and stained, with golden fret boards, and beautiful lightened silver strings.

"I won't lie"

I lied. for months and months, even when I posed holding you in my arms, smiling widely and looking up chords for me to place my fingers on them, it almost made me feel teased in a way--like I COULD play, and I chose to be incapable, and let myself seep in a bathtub of guilt.

"How does it feel to be holding a 700$ guitar?"

"I feel like shit. I haven't ever used it, when i was at my dad's i faked it, i played 3 chords and thought I was amazing--he wasted money on something I'm pretending to adore over"

"JUST TELL HIM"

I didn't tell him. I stayed lying. constantly eyeing the dark wooded guitar, I sat next too. the fluffy white carpet, watching Netflix and eating tacos, staring at the strings, eyeing the fret boards, the fret walls, the bars

Gripping my hair, heart is pounding, and I can't stop my shaky fast breathing, my mouth is getting so dry but no matter how much water I drink it remains feeling like sandpaper--this is his only tool--I need a loophole, and escape, a trapdoor, there is always an escape right?

This isn't real, you are not real. Derealization, disassociation, staring into the white light with my head tilted back, leaning onto the chair--I feel like I'm flying, I think I'm dying, I felt like I was on cloud 9, I've never done drugs before but that's what I felt like I was on. I was absolutely hammered with the lens of depersonalization, am I myself? is this who I want to be? am I going to allow myself to lay in the quicksand and let it absorb me.

"Helloooo??"

"Robin!"

"Are they afk"

"No, I mean maybe"

I'm too much for anybody, why do the people closest too me always leave, what did I do to deserve being taken advantage of, being yelled at, growing up with multiple mental illnesses, you we're wonderful, you we're beautiful. you taught me things I've forgotten, but I only remember the good times. I wish you would stop leaving, please stay--I love your I love You's, the random texts throughout the day, getting on the bus to 7+ notifications from _________

I would give everything up for you, just to make you proud again, not of your daughter, of your kiddo.

I will never get away from my screen, the internet bringing toxicity, it's no good and I love that. Heart eyed pupils, open wide, watching the flying colors 2 feet away from my screen. That's all I do, is love you.

-Love,

Afraid