Stupid, huh?

I guess this is pretty stupid.

It feels pretty stupid, as I don’t blog anymore and all.

Stupid, huh?

I’m not doing so great, guys. I’m in my last year of school now. I hate practically all the girls in my school, and 97 percent of the boys as well. I feel like an outcast. I’m involved/not involved with this guy who has a girlfriend and it makes me feel like a worthless piece of.. ah. And what’s more? I feel like I can’t even get out. But I can’t complain, I am the one after all who always said that she didn’t want a relationship as to avoid getting hurt. ..That plan evidently isn’t working out so well. I am so near the brink now and I just need someone to take me, head on, and give me a solution. It’s almost as if I’m surrounded by this aura of self loathing when I’m alone.

Why does every fucking person say it will get better? It doesn’t. It hasn’t. 3 years on and I’m still suffering from depression. I’m still suffering from bulimia. Struggling with self hate. Turning to alcohol every now and again. I am just, just so drained. Have you ever been in that state of mind where you don’t know if you need company or space? I’m at that stop right about now.

I don’t know what else to type.

I’ve Never Said This

I’m crying as I write this. It’s gotten to the point recently where I feel so empty. I feel so, so numb. And I’ve realised, that I wish I was dead.

I wish I could disappear off the face of the earth right now, and no one ever to remember me.

I wish I’d never been born, and I’ve never felt so fucked up. I feel like if God came down and offered me the chance to die – I’d take it.

I feel worthless. Like I deserved my abuse. Like I deserved everything. Ugly. Fat. Disgusting. Shameful. Hated.

I wish, I wish so badly, that I’d never been born.

An Open Letter To My Abuser

Hello,

It’s been a while since we brought this up – recently our conversations have been filled with minor, unimportant things; quite frankly, avoidance of certain topics.

Topics like, how you sexually abused me. How you covered my mouth with your hands and left scars – inside and out. How you beat me up, told me I was worthless, threatened to kill me. Topics like how you look at me still, as an aqaintance by force, and smile with that same old sadistic twinkle in your eye.

So how about we talk about it? Firstly, just to let you know, I do blame myself. I blame myself for not telling anyone until now, nearly 13 years later. I blame myself for not screaming louder, for giving up and not fighting back. For giving in to pressure and hiding under the covers for so long – hopelessly trying to pretend none of it ever happened. But it did. And I know now, that will never change.

I wonder, sometimes. I wonder will you tell your wife about how you savagely beat up your little sister – and took away every shred of her dignity. I wonder do you scorn rapists, bullies, murderers, thieves – or do you abide with them? I wonder if you even remember how you treated me. Remember that time when you pushed me into the deep end of the swimming pool when I couldn’t swim, brother? No? What about the time you held my head to the corner of the bedside table and smashed my skull against it? Or the time when you forced me up against the wall in the bathroom on a “family holiday” and whispered in my ear, telling me you were going to rape me? I do. I remember it in every nightmare, every sleepless night, every moment I’m home alone with you.

I want you to know that in 1 year, 1 month and 24 days from today I will never see you again – as I will have turned 18. If you email me, call me, text me; do not expect a reply. I loathe you, your values, your cowardice, and your inhability to even apologise. It is your fault that I have such issues now. Issues with self esteem, issues with trust, issues with self worth. I hope, that I will never have to encounter you again – and you become an illusion that I learn to block out of my memory. May God provide you with forgiveness, for I will not. Do not venture towards any future events that I will be a part of – that includes my wedding, my children’s baptisms, my future workplace, or anything of the sort. I have no time for corrupted beings in my life.

I pray for your children, and I hope they have a strong mother. They will find no integrity in their father.

Sincerely, your dearest sister, Ceola.