Forgiveness? No way I'd ever let myself accept that. That's what I told myself the hundreds of times I went back. Now they want me to. They think because I went with them I'm ready for things to all go back? No. They're wrong.
I don't blame you for taking me to the altar. I looked drugged probably, because I was. Still the leftover queasy feeling of a hangover stung my body. I looked sad she said. Fucking sad. I don't know. Do I act sad? Probably, I feel sad. So much now it's become normal for everyday life. Tired of my complaining. So am I. I'm tired of myself as a whole, but I can't do anything about that. The thoughts and memories are slowly eating away at my brain like a parasite. My therapist said that writing helps. I don't know, does it? Does it help you? Do you feel better after writing? What about after drugs? Or drinking? What about self harm? None of it works. Nothing makes you feel better and I'm tired of all these so-called counselors and therapists getting a paycheck when they're not even doing their job. Since you're reading this, although you might not have wanted to, talking to you is nice. That's why I wanted you to read this. I feel comfortable talking normally like I'm talking to you except, I'm not getting a reply. You just get to read my words in past tense and wonder where the fuck I am. Rest assured. I'm okay. I couldn't get out of this if I wanted to. I know because I do want to. I'm not home, not at my mom's anymore. I'm just taking a walk. Maybe I'll walk miles to the next town, or maybe I'd be taken as soon as I hit the highway, and then no one hears from me ever again. See, it's scary. I can put these thoughts in your mind. I can make you scared that something is going to happen. But it's not. I love you too much to go without saying goodbye. I'd regret that more than a lot of other things I've done. I'll bet you're wondering how many people are reading this. I'll tell you. Enough. Enough people are reading it. It could be 1 or it could be 100, but I'm saying you because it's directly to you as an individual. It's important that you read these words. I can't get myself to speak them out loud. I keep trying but I always end up failing. This really makes no sense I guess. I keep switching the topic like it's the weather. So let me go back to the first thing, the History. Anger can be caused by a lot of things. Anger is painful. It hides something else that we're feeling, but we can't get it out so that breaks us and we lash out on others, ourselves, even nonliving things. Would you let anger make you into a bad person? Would you let it get so bad that it boils over? Some people do. Some people let it get really bad. Some people lash out on others who don't even deserve it. Then it causes the others to believe that this person's aggression is their fault. You're not responsible for anyone else's aggression. They are responsible for their own. But you see, that's not the case. Even if I'm telling you this right now, I don't believe in it. I still feel at fault for my abuser's aggressiveness. And now, they want me to forgive and forget. Like nothing ever happened. Like all the broken bones and fractures were just papers that have been torn from a book. No longer there. Forgotten. How do you forgive? I'm not even sure I know how. I don't even want to. She kept saying, "On your own time." Yet they still pulled me into their grasp and firmly held on, like my feelings and uneasiness didn't matter. Is this how you'd want your children's history to be? Because I will have to face that forever, because I can't forgive. I don't need to forgive. They keep saying when I do I'll feel better, and you know that could very possibly be true, but I can't forget about what happened even if I wanted to. It replays over and over like a scratched record, and I just sit in silence remembering. I think that's all I have to say for now. I don't know if I'll talk to you soon or not. Please do not share this with anyone. It's for you to read and understand. Until we meet again, Goodbye.
~Audry
