grayzheart-blog

[grayzheart-blog]

A letter to you

I think about you less now.

At least, I think of what you did less now.

I can usually avoid it.

But it's that time of year again. It's the time that I finally spoke up.

God dammit.

I always think I’m over it.

Yet some nights it's still burned in my mind like a porno on repeat and I can't stop myself from looking back even though I've watched it a million times and all it makes me want to do is vomit.

My stomach churns and roils at the thought of the hell you put me through.

Often I tell myself, other people had it worse.

I'm just being a baby.

Overreacting.

So then why does it keep popping up in my mind and making me sick?

Why does it feel like I'm lifting 2,000lbs when I speak your name?

See, it wasn't just a few incidents.

It was years of mental torture.

Years of a vicious cycle on repeat of you confessing your "love" and me having to say no.

The first time you told me I cried for hours. Cause it broke my heart for you.

As time went on we became friends again.

I thought things were better.

Then I got a boyfriend and you threw a fit. When I asked why you again confessed to me your feelings.

This time I didn't cry. I was angry.

Time again went on and we became friends once again.

But some things were still rough.

We screamed at each other like never before.

Shouting up and down the house.

I didn't understand it.

Cause now and then we'd be fine. We'd enjoy each other's company.

Eventually I thought you were finally over me.

Then one night I woke to feel your hand on my inner thigh, working itself closer and closer to parts of me no one was supposed to see. I laid there pretending to sleep.

How does one react to awaking to that??

I think you sensed I had woken, or thought I was about to. Cause you put your hand down.

Then I listened as you finished the work you had begun on yourself.

A faint rustle of the sheets.

I ignored the incident.

Told myself it hadn't actually happened. I had imagined it.

Because why would you do that???

Then, time went on. We decided to sleep on the trampoline to celebrate June.

I laid my brother between us as a safety net.

You squirmed for a long time. Finally moving almost exactly to the opposite side of the trampoline.

I feel asleep.

Then I awoke.

Your hand was on me.

Moving, fumbling, as you felt me up.

I lay frozen.

You were even sitting up this time.

You tried to work your hand into my pants, apparently being on top of them wasn't enough.

I couldn't move.

I tried to seem asleep.

You barely got into my pants when I was finally able to stir my body.

You froze

You moved you hand.

Laid down.

I laid there still. Unable to move anymore.

Again, I began to feel your hand running up my leg.

Getting closer and closer to where you had been.

I didn't know how to stop it. I was panicking and afraid.

You touched me more. Reaching your hand to get between my legs.

This continued.

Finally, I stirred again. This time I moved so I was curled against my little brother.

Again. I heard the rustle of the sheets. Your labored breathing. The creak of the trampoline springs.

Then you were silent.

I felt dirty. Disgusting. Gross.

I couldn't sleep. I laid staring at the stars until the sun began to rise.

Around 5:30am I got up. And I ran.

I ran until I couldn't breathe.

Then I ran back.

I went to my room. Pretended as if nothing had happened.

You came to my door, asked if I was okay. I smiled and asked, why wouldn't I be? As I desperately tried to be able to look you in the eye.

The day was torture

I was exhausted. And broken.

You were supposed to be my brother and friend.

I wasn't going to say anything.

But I confided in a friend and she convinced me to tell my mom.

God, that fucking sucked.

And then it continued to suck for weeks. So many people knew.

Some sympathized with me.

Others blamed me

I told myself I was fine.

But fuck you.

It wasn't just a couple of incidents here and there, I didn't mention them all. Just the last two.

It was years of emotional and mental abuse and torture.

Then it was betrayal and pain.

You took a part of me I will never get back.

You took my confidence, my esteem, my worth.

I was lost. I was alone. I was broken.

Then I began to go to church. That's when my recovery began. But it was long. And painful. I quit counseling because it was too hard to think about. I rededicated myself to the lord.

And as time passed I had to face my brokenness. My pain. Over and over again.

I’ve healed now, at least, mostly.

I’ve forgiven you, at least I think I have.

Can I forgive yet still be angry?

I’m not angry most times.

I just want the memories to stop haunting me.

I’m done with you and the things you did. I’m done reliving it over and over in my mind.

It’s over

But never forgotten.....

[grayzheart-blog]

I am such a contradiction of myself. I want people to see me, I want them to reach out to me, Yet when they do, I push them away. I don't know what I want, I never have. I am so scared to open myself up tha I hide behind these walls, But then get angry when no one can climb them or break them down. I want to be saved, But the thought of being saved repulses me. I am a contradiction of myself in everything I do.

[grayzheart-blog]

1 am thoughts

I believe that the worse feeling in the world is to know that someone has given up on you. The light fades from their eyes, as they turn and walk away, not because they don't care, but because they lost their hope in you. Whether it is a parent, boyfriend/girlfriend, teacher, friend, or mentor. The moment they stop believing in you, and they walk away, is the worst thing I've ever experienced. To know that even when I try, I can't be good enough, is so incredibly painful and heartbreaking. Because if even they have given up hope in me, how can I hope for myself?

[grayzheart-blog]

I feel like if I were to disappear, no one would notice or care.

[grayzheart-blog]

Sleepless nights

I toss and turn yet sleep seems to evade me I lay here overwhelmed by lies Lies telling me all sorts of little things I'm not good enough No one will ever care I know I can be cold I know I can be harsh And most times I'm okay with it But laying here at 12 am, Looking at my life, I see no one. I've pushed all the people that care away and buried my heart Underground with a tombstone that reads "The guarded one" I can't stand the thought of vulnerability I can't stand the thought of letting someone see deep inside of my heart I don't know how to open up even if I wanted to So I guard it and keep the key hidden away in a dark cave that no one will find But secretly hoping someone will And that they will cross my moat, Break down my walls, And open the doors Vulnerability is a scary thing. My walls are thorned and have many layers The cold and harshness is only a persona It's a front so that no one can see inside Yet, I wish they would, And turn my stone graveyard into a lush, colorful garden. But this is just wishful thinking.

[grayzheart-blog]

It feels like a hole was ripped through my chest, it hurts so much to know that I'm falling apart and you're doing fine.

Me

[grayzheart-blog]

Sometimes the hardest things to do in life are the most necessary.

[grayzheart-blog]

The funny thing about ptsd is that people say you need to talk about it to get over it, but then they don't want to have to listen.

Unknown

[grayzheart-blog]

“different anon here ―”