Here in the In-Between

09 : That Went EVERYWHERE

Friday, June 5th
1:31 PM

Bryce. Bryce Walker. He was trying to change. He was trying to be better. His redemption is one of the only one's I've agreed to. I usually hold grudges for a long, long time and I'm slow to forgive, unless I know it was a joke or accidental.

Sexual assault is never either of those things.

Nor is abuse.

Nor is bullying.

I have been sexually assaulted twice in my life, one was in a school stairwell and one was in my room. I am still a virgin, but I still believe I can understand Jessica and Hannah and all the other's. I think I can understand for a spilt second when I think about how scared I was, I can understand how they blame themselves. I still do, I was thirteen and should've done more than just be silent. But that doesn't make it okay.

If you know me in real life. Stop. Stop trying to help. I'm not here for that. I'm here to talk, mostly because I just like sharing things about my personal life. If it can make one person out there feel, anything, that's good enough for me.

Even if it is anger at my stupidity or feelings or my oversharing.

But if you know me, just let me be. I know. That's dumb and when I end my life, not if because it's going to happen someday, at least one person will feel guilty. I hate it when people try to help me. Let me fend for myself, let me be. Please.

I like being alone.

I like being in my head.

Can I ask you something? Why is it that whenever I tell people I'm in my head, they tell me to get out of it?

Do they think I'm thinking about my life, my depression, suicide plans?

Guess what, by asking me to leave my thoughts that's all I can think about. Death, my death. But it's not what I usually think about. Usually.

When I was younger my home life was the worst shit, my school life was full of laughter. Not the good kind.

If you don't know what I mean by that, I can never I believe you were bullied.

So, obviously, I needed to find an escape. That escape became two places. In the bath, where I could be playful and loud. Where my imagination could do whatever it wanted. And later in my mind, where I could be the hero or the romanticized lead or the mermaid or anything. It became my distraction. It still is.

My mind, a place overflowing with thoughts, is my happy place. A place full of plans for murder and bank robbery. A place full of made up scenarios. A place where romance is a possibility.

Aka, the place for all my life's impossible possibilities.

Sure, I will go to thoughts that aren't any good. My suicide options and memories. Not to mention even the smallest similarity to a memory can bring me back there.

I feel like I've written quite a bit. Most people like that sort of thing. Probably not with this type of stuff though.

Hi, I'm Harmony.