No happiness
With the panic attacs wrapping around my throat, I just want a simple breath. Fresh air in my chest, please dear God make this stop.
Nobody's here. Nobody knows. I'm all alone, all over again. Evening, hated nights, darkness and I need some space. Torn in to tiny pieces, soundless screams, so lonly again.
Happiness is dangerous. It creates those awful nights.
Nobody's here. Nobody knows. I'm all alone, all over again. Evening, hated nights, darkness and I need some space. Torn in to tiny pieces, soundless screams, so lonly again.
Happiness is dangerous. It creates those awful nights.
Mom
My brain feels like an overheated oven, my thoughs stick together as if they were glued. I wish I could forget, erase everything and pretend that I always had a happy life.
I wish my second mom was my bio mother, I miss her so much and I want to visit her, but I'm not allowed. Sometimes she tells me that if I was "her real daughter", she would hold me close and never let me go. It hurts so bad when I hear those words. "If you were my real daughter", well, that's all I want. I want to be her daughter, I want to be allowed to love her with all my heart.
I miss her so much.
I wish my second mom was my bio mother, I miss her so much and I want to visit her, but I'm not allowed. Sometimes she tells me that if I was "her real daughter", she would hold me close and never let me go. It hurts so bad when I hear those words. "If you were my real daughter", well, that's all I want. I want to be her daughter, I want to be allowed to love her with all my heart.
I miss her so much.
Rambling
I was reading Faiths post and it made me think.
Until I was 14 years old, I never said much about myself. I don't know why I changed, maybe because the abuses stopped then. But there's one thing I would never ever do.
I never tell anybody about how I really feel at the moment.
People tend to think of me as open and sharing, but really I only tell about my past and a very moderated version of everything. I mean, how could I tell about my swingning mood, my rage against the society, my longing for being a baby and nurtured? I can tell anybody about the physical and mental abuse that She put me trough, but the sexual is a secret.
The only person I talk to is my second mom. She knows everything about me, and I'm so lucky to have her. Even though our relationship is kind of complicated at the moment, and she doesn't really know what I'm talking about, she's still so much support and love.
And the inspiration post was about rambling, and it's just what I've been doing. It's just hard to get my thought straightened out and in the right place.
Until I was 14 years old, I never said much about myself. I don't know why I changed, maybe because the abuses stopped then. But there's one thing I would never ever do.
I never tell anybody about how I really feel at the moment.
People tend to think of me as open and sharing, but really I only tell about my past and a very moderated version of everything. I mean, how could I tell about my swingning mood, my rage against the society, my longing for being a baby and nurtured? I can tell anybody about the physical and mental abuse that She put me trough, but the sexual is a secret.
The only person I talk to is my second mom. She knows everything about me, and I'm so lucky to have her. Even though our relationship is kind of complicated at the moment, and she doesn't really know what I'm talking about, she's still so much support and love.
And the inspiration post was about rambling, and it's just what I've been doing. It's just hard to get my thought straightened out and in the right place.
Uncomfortable
I'm fed up with all lies, I'm tired of feeling like the only one in the world having these thoughts and feelings. I don't want to be the big mistake, that failure.
I was abused by my bio mother. And the world tells me I'm a liar for telling. Moms don't do that kind of things. She's not homosexual and not phedophile. According to everybody else.
Sometimes I just want to scream that they didn't live with her for 18 years, everyday, so how the f*** could they know that. I did, and I say otherwise.
But I guess that the truth is uncomfortable.
I was abused by my bio mother. And the world tells me I'm a liar for telling. Moms don't do that kind of things. She's not homosexual and not phedophile. According to everybody else.
Sometimes I just want to scream that they didn't live with her for 18 years, everyday, so how the f*** could they know that. I did, and I say otherwise.
But I guess that the truth is uncomfortable.
