envelop, a written letter

breathless

T.W. SENSITIVE TOPICS. READ IF YOU WISH. TALKS ABOUT SEXUAL ASSAULT AND ABUSE.

ah, i remember. i think daily. i've been struggling and i don't know if you've noticed. sadly, my family is known for over-drinking, smoking until we pass out. the pot sometimes makes us hallucinate. i don't know. i'm quite different but not so much. i'm not a speaker or wonder-er. i'm more of a thinker. i've been one to think how life would've been. 

i've only seen abuse. either it be through gambling, drugs, alcohol or beatings. i've heard father threaten a with a belt. he never yelled at h. i don't know why. i've thought about what if i never came into this world... i realized, if i didn't. mother would live an easier life. no one would be suffering because of me. at the same time i wouldn't of found the fucked up people who i can put away.

around 7 years old, i had a young boy ruin me. i admit it to my father, captor. captor captor captor captor captor. he didn't believe me. fuck it.

6 years old i seen my dad threaten my mom. leaving her for another woman.

8 years old... he raises his hand to her.

12 years old. he almost did it to me. why won't he do it..? you that much of a pussy?

13 years old. i liked this boy. he threatened to rape me daily.

14. this older man lied to me of his age. i was naive.

15. i dated a boy, b. he knew where i lived. he almost did the unspeakable.

16. i met this one guy, he was wonderful. in the end.. he wasn't.

day in and day out. i stopped wearing skirts, cute clothes, anything. i cover myself with disgust. i do not know who i am. i wish i got a response. i wish you understood the ache in the chest i have. i relapsed into drugs and alcohol, even worse. the blood running down my throat, my thighs, my palms. my legs are scarred to death. i've been battling alone, no one knows who i am. no one. i keep myself known. i don't let anyone KNOW who the FUCK i am. i hate it. it makes you weak, disliked, pathetic.

i obsess. i'm in fear of who could see this but no one knows who i am here. and i'm thankful. no one knows who i am. they may never really.

i barely know who i am. i know i love, i know i feel everything so powerfully and so passionately. but the pain is. no one sees it. i paint, i draw, i write poetry, i evolve who i am. i just wish i felt that beauty that i feel in my art and passions. people look at me as trash..

i am known for the names of whore, slut bag, cum slut. bitch. annoying. i've been known to be told to kill myself. to drink till i stop. to get high and drop. to.. maybe stop... i've been told to have my heart, stop. i've had boys grope at my ass, and make comments that they hate it, why the fuck you grabbing you pigs...

i hate this place, i've been thrown around like a doll not only by my father, but by the ones i trusted and love. i used to starve to lose weight, i used to puke to lose weight, everyone compliments the lose.... little do they realize.. it's painful.

i cannot breath. my lungs gasp, i miss how i felt as a child. pure and innocent... nothing to harm... nothing to do to cause ache and pain... i miss the youth. i miss the feeling of being told i could do nothing, oh so wrong.. i miss.. purity.. i miss. happiness. now all i do is get drunk and forget. all i do is repeat the same damn mistake. and no one. knows.