Tag Archives: abuse

Questions for him

  • why did you do it? was it because I wasn’t your biological daughter? or
  • did you ever think how it would affect me?
  • did you think that I wouldn’t eventually tell someone?
  • what were your thoughts when you decided to come into my bedroom? did you even think about me and my feelings?
  • how is it that you only got 6 months? is that why you admitted to what you did? so that you would get off easier?  do you really think my childhood is only worth 6 months in jail?
  • what made you think it was “okay” to write me while you were in jail for what you did to me?
  • how could you do that to me, to a girl under your care?
  • I don’t understand how someone can do that to someone they say they “love”, please explain it to me.
  • what went through your mind while you were sneaking into my bedroom?
  • what made you start doing it? what has you so fucked up in the head that you could do that to a little girl who you were suppose to protect?
  • how could you put your hands on me? not just sexually, but also physically? how could you put your hand on my throat and lift me off the floor?

 

my life now, is a mess, every relationship I’ve been in has been wrecked by you and what you did to me. now I’m not comfortable with my body anymore or my sexual needs. it’s hard for me to be able to connect with someone on a intimate level. I can’t find anyone to talk to whom understands what I’ve been through and knows how to help me deal with the thoughts I’m always having daily.

I’m unable to feel confident with my body anymore. even after all these years you still have your tight grip around my throat. I have marks along my skin that have been put there by the dreams that you are in. when I’m finally able to get into a deep enough sleep that I can dream, there you always are waiting for me, to hurt me more then you could. it’s hard for me to actually wake up and escape your grasp.

the little girl I once was doesn’t exist, I don’t know who she is except for a little girl who needed her dad that was nowhere to be found. I was left with a monster to deal with everyday, I was actually afraid to go home after school because I knew that you would be there waiting for me. I don’t understand how you can do that to someone for so long, someone who you’re suppose to protect and take care of.

people always say “time heals all wounds” it’s been 7 years and I still don’t feel healed, yes I can talk about it to anyone, mainly because I’m used to it. I’m not ashamed this happened to me, I’m not embarrassed, I’m not shy about it; but I am angry, hurt, and upset. I’m really hoping one day I can forget.

Cutting

pain is too hard to carry. pain in your mind, destroying it. pain in your heart, hurting you. pain you can’t get rid of. pain that will keep piling on. pain holding onto you with claws. pain unwilling to let you go. pain keeping a too tight grip.

pushing the blade into fresh skin. pushing so much red rises up. pushing so much it starts tingling. pushing until the pain becomes numb. push down, cut deeply, move swiftly. pushing to numb everything deep inside. pushing until you’re unable to feel.

finally you’re able to breath again. finally everything becomes a little clearer. finally you have a clean mind. finally breathing isn’t a heavy chore. finally you can show a smile. finally you can be you again.

Friday Night Cutting

She started cutting that Friday night.

She could have asked for help,

She was talking to someone on Facebook,

But she decided not to ask.

She told him she was tired,

She had an energy burning day.

She said goodnight, and signed off.

But she should have stayed online.

She went up to her bedroom.

She changed into her comfy clothes.

She climbed into bed, sat there.

But she wasn’t alone in bed.

She brought an old beautiful friend.

She laid it down on her.

She pushed it into her skin.

But with a singular quick movement,

She was bleeding again, something forgotten.

She hasn’t done this so long.

She wanted to desperately remember again.

But her skin didn’t want to.

She couldn’t stop the red tears.

She couldn’t stop the radiating warmth.

She couldn’t stop the red diamonds.

But it eventually stopped. For now.

Boys Will be Boys

Boys think it’s all about them.

Boys are allowed to do anything.

Boys can do anything they want.

Gils are supposed to shut up.

Girls have to take what’s given.

Girls do not have any say.

Boys think girls dress for them.

Boys think girls are their belongings.

Boys think girls have to listen.

Girls can’t think that it’s wrong.

Girls can’t think he’s not allowed.

Girls can’t think, speak, or move.

Boys are allowed to bug girls.

Boys are allowed to hit girls.

Boys are allowed to touch girls.

Girls are not allowed to protest.

Girls are not allowed to reject.

Girls are not allowed to feel.

Boys can do what they want.

Boys can do anything they want.

Boys can think what they want.

Girls can’t do what they want.

Girls can’t do what boys can.

Girls can’t do anything about it.

Boys are stronger, better, and smarter.

Boys are encouraged, accepted, and extraordinary.

Boys are curious, adventurous, and idealistic.

Girls are weak, unopinionated, and stupid.

Girls are silent, unable, and pathetic.

Girls are ignorant, disrespectful, and unfit.

Boys are allowed to be boys.

Boys are allowed to say anything.

Boys are allowed to speak up.

Girls aren’t allowed to be girls.

Girls aren’t allowed to say anything.

Girls aren’t allowed to speak up.

Boys don’t worry about any consequences.

Boys don’t worry about girls speaking.

Boys don’t worry about significant abuse.

Girls worry about not being believed.

Girls worry about being shut upped.

Girls worry about being rapped, abused.

Parents make excuses for their boys.

Teachers defend the boys in school.

Authorities believe the boys with anything.

Parents discourage their girl’s outspoken words.

Teachers give girls punishments with everything.

Authorities don’t believe in the girls.

Fat

She can’t look in her mirror,

She can’t look at herself anymore.

She can’t look at her body,

She can’t look at her face.

She hates when her legs touch.

She hates when her stomach shows.

She hates when her arms move.

She hates when her butt’s bulging.

Her legs touch, shake while walking.

Her legs are dry and bleak.

Her legs are wide and thickset.

Her legs are stocky and stubby.

Her stomach is potbellied and husky.

Her stomach is jiggly and wiggly.

Her stomach is bulging and plumply.

Her stomach is oversized and swollen.

Her arms are roly-poly and blabby.

Her arms are fleshy and chunky.

Her arms are flabby and overabundance.

Her arms are blubber and beefy.

Her butt is lumpy and bumpy.

Her butt is irregular and uneven.

Her butt is stout and blucky.

Her butt is pudgy and hefty.

She grabs fat on inner thighs.

She pulls handfuls of her stomach.

She pinches her under arm flubber.

She squeezes her butt to smaller.

She stretches for smaller inner thighs.

She drinks tea for smaller stomach.

She exercises for smaller, thinner arms.

She walks for smaller, rounder butt.

Suicide

March 27th, 2014. Teenage suicide attempt.

She swallowed 82 Ibuprofen with water.

Along with phenazopyridine, an old subscription.

With the pain she was experiencing

It seemed to call for medication.

Medication will hopefully numb the pain.

It is her final, last resort.

Slowly feeling her stomach start disintegrating.

As her stomach lining started thinning

She was waiting for the end.

Getting dizzy unable to walk properly.

Walking around almost as if drunk.

Her mind unable to focus straight.

She was unable to wait anymore.

She finally told him about everything.

He brought her to get help.

They called an ambulance for her.

They asked questions she couldn’t answer.

She was close to falling asleep.

Fighting the darkness and the unconsciousness.

Laying on a gurney leaving school.

On her way to the hospital.

The paramedic looking for her veins.

Unable to find them do to

Ibuprofen thins blood making it difficult.

Paramedic kept missing the thin veins.

Finally was able to find one.

Laying on the gurney inside waiting.

Falling in and out of unconsciousness.

Waiting for the doctor and nurse.

Her lips becoming blue and purple.

But her body overheating within seconds.

Sweating through clothing and gurney sheets.

Her hearing slowly started to disappear.

She was unable to hear anyone

She couldn’t even hear herself speak.

Family

What if her family ever knew?

What would they do with her?

What would they say to her?

The deep lines on her thigh

The deep burns in her arm

The bones showing under her clothes

She has to be careful always

She has to always watch herself

She has to think everything through

Getting caught could ruin every thing

Getting found could spoil her world

Getting fix could hurt her soul

Without it she has nothing left

Without it she can’t breath easy

Without it she don’t know anything

With it she can do anything

With it she’s everything she wants

With it she has the world

Things That Make Her Happy

  • Getting through the day without eating.
  • Deep cuts that last a lifetime.
  • The feeling of all her scars.
  • The numbness on a dull body.
  • Feeling the warm blood drip down.
  • Putting the mental pain into physical.
  • The relief after one single cut.
  • Realizing she’ll never truly be happy.
  • Feeling the knife in her hand.
  • The demons that keep her company.
  • The feeling while the lighter burns.
  • Pencil sharpener blade on bare skin.
  • Finding new ways to become skinny.
  • The brightness of a new cut.
  • The blade getting through her skin.
  • Red hot metal on her skin.
  • Getting to peel off a scab.
  • Putting marks on her fresh skin.
  • Being able to breath after cutting.
  • Her stomach craving for some food.
  • The smoke filling up her lungs.
  • Grabbing onto a blade that cuts.
  • The beauty of bright red blood.
  • Tricking people with her fake smiles.
  • Drinking until she is finally numb.
  • Being able to deepen a cut.
  • Putting her body through the pain.
  • The beauty of fresh running blood.
  • Making sure blood doesn’t get everywhere.
  • Knowing it’s a good cut.
  • Watching the scale’s numbers go down.
  • Finding that her thighs don’t touch.
  • The beauty of pain she created.
  • The clarity of holding broken glass.
  • The feeling of breaking into flesh.
  • Seeing broken glass on the street.
  • Hiding fresh new cuts from everyone.
  • The burning sensation in the throat.
  • The salty taste of her tears.
  • Deepening the cuts on her thigh.
  • Feeling the cuts on her wrist.
  • Praying to feel some pain today.
  • Fitting into that perfect skinny outfit.
  • Noticing her scale numbers drop down.
  • Finally reaching her weekly weight goals.
  • Feeling free after cutting a few.
  • Not falling asleep to burn calories.
  • Being able to feel her bones.
  • Being able to see her bones.
  • Not being tempted by any foods.
  • Drinking tea and eating nothing else.
  • Feeling the pain after burning and cutting.
  • Being able to smile through pain.
  • Avoiding all people, especially eating people.
  • Making marks that cause bad pain.
  • Adding onto all the old scars.
  • People believing her that she’s okay.
  • Being able to ignore other’s eating.
  • Nobody noticing she’s cutting and burning.
  • Being able to say she succeeded.
  • The shininess of fresh red blood.
  • When she can keep everything clean.
  • Holding the light knife in hand.
  • Blood beads look like little diamonds.
  • The sparkles on the knife’s blade.
  • Feeling that it’s a deep cut.
  • After the fifth cut, she’s numb.
  • The depth of a new cut.
  • The tingles of a new cut.
  • Drinking until she forgets the pain.
  • Getting the nerve to cut deep.
  • Getting the nerve to burn skin.
  • Hot water on her frozen hands.
  • The beauty in holding her life.
  • Helping others to not feel pain.
  • Turning her mental pain into physical.
  • Creating artworks with knifes and skin.
  • Cutting creates a week of pain.
  • Marking body as much as mind.
  • Tingling after feeling the hot flame.

Skinny

How many pounds? How many inches?

How many calories? How many fats?

How many candies? How many veggies?

How many?.. How many?.. How many..?

 

The questions go through her head.

In the morning, afternoon, and night.

She’s always thinking about not eating.

If she eats, that’s another calorie.

 

That’s another gram of body fat.

Another outfit she can’t fit into.

Another outfit she has destroyed again.

That’s another number on the scale.

 

Her notebook is filled with thinspirations.

Skinny girls, skinny foods, skinny tips.

Notes about getting small and skinny.

 

Learning how to eat or not.

What to eat to burn calories.

What to do instead of eating.

What to do to burn calories.

 

Things to do instead of eating.

Drawing, writing, painting, reading, or coloring.

Napping, bathing, doing hair, painting nails.

Walking, running, doing yoga, or fitness.

Not eating is easier than tracking.

Tracking is hard, tiring, and consuming.

Not eating is easier than fitness.

Tracking is hard, boring, and draining.

 

If she gets through a day,

One, single, empty day without eating,

It’s considered a good successful day.

 

To be skinny she has to

Skip a meal, avoid all foods.

To be skinny she has to

Do something other than eating foods.

 

To be skinny she has to

Drink zero calorie, zero sugar tea.

To be skinny she has to

Pretend to not be starving inside.

 

To be skinny means she’s pretty.

To be skinny means she’s confident.

To be skinny means she’s strong.

To be skinny means she’s brave.

 

How many pounds until she’s perfect?

How many calories does to burn?

How many more candies to avoid?

How many?.. How many?.. How many?..

Childhood

She was a young, innocent child.

The whole world at her fingertips.

She’d be able to do anything

She’d want once she grew up.

He was a father figure, adult.

She was once his whole world.

He was someone she always respected.

He was someone she always loved.

She was sleeping in her bed,

Until one night he started visiting.

She was deep in her sleep.

She would be woken by touching.

He would come in and touch

In her bed, in surrounding darkness

He would rub her, kiss her.

He would grab her, abuse her.

She was sexually abused, alone, pained.

Nobody to turn to or help.

She didn’t know what to do.

She felt stuck, paralyzed, and broken.

He kept secrets, so did she.

Money and fear kept her quiet.

He paid for toys, books, clothing.

He hurt her body and mind.

She could get all the books.

Wear all the newest fashion styles,

She played with all the toys.

She got everything she asked for.

He didn’t want anyone to know,

Secrets he withheld from everyone possible.

He only told his little girl.

He didn’t care about her pain.

She carried his heavy secret alongside,

The secret weight thousands of pounds.

She couldn’t carry the secret anymore.

She couldn’t drop down from exhaustion.

He burdened her with him secret.

A secret he couldn’t have kept.

He would scare her into silence.

He would punch, choke, and slap.

She would cower, choke, and weep.

His hands were like sharp steal.

She would watch her skin swell.

She would wear marks and bruises.

He would make her body flinch.

One way or another, she’s silent.

He would hit her or touch.

He always stayed with her body.

She wanted to stop being strong.

To finally be able to drop,

She wanted to take a break,

She wanted to get some help.

They came on Saturday to help.

She was free, he was stopped.

They came to relieve her pain.

They came to help a child.