inhale

to be so revolted by how you’ve been treated or how you feel about yourself, that you can’t even finish an entire meal because halfway through one bite you lose your appetite. your throat tightens, your stomach says no, and your vision becomes blurry from the tears already on the verge of falling.

“what’s wrong?”

i just can’t do it. i’m not hungry anymore. i’m sad. i just want to cry.

I took back power, but not sure how to feel about it. I still wonder and hope.

my body physically hurts from not being able to say all the things i want to say. knowing nothing i do will change anything. knowing that i will never be the right person for you again.

There is no more warning. There is no more mental protection from stopping myself from the urge to never open my eyes again. All my life I’ve always struggled with self worth. The thoughts would come as “What if I just swerved into the median? Into the oncoming traffic? What if I just opened the drawer and held the knife in my hand. Walked over to the railroad tracks and just sat there until it the next train made its way here. What if I just.” I feel every self-inflicted scar and think of how easy it was to cut that deep, and how much easier it gets to cut deeper.

There is no more what if’s, there’s just do. I find calmness when I think of it. It’s a euphoric feeling. Everything melts away from knowing that if I just did it, that would be the end of all this. No one would have to take care of me. No one would get to touch me again. No one would leave me anymore. Not understand me. Not forget about me. Not give me another chance. No more anxiety, no more excruciating thoughts. Nothing. Nothing sounds like a best wish come true.

How did this happen? How did I let myself for so many years ignore the cruel people and places shaving off a piece of my existence day by day. I was so obsessed with finding the good in everyone that I was numb to its detriment.

I remember telling him to stop. I remember saying how badly it hurt, how hard I tried to push him off, and how nothing I said or did made a difference. I remember frantically looking at the clock. It was 3am — the moment my eyes filled with tears and I decided to give up. There was nothing more I could do but to wait until it was over. I could feel the exhaustion coming from both of us and wished with every bone in my body it would all end soon.

October 25th, 2017. I was paralyzed as I experienced my biggest fear. The bruises and pain helped to remind me it really happened. He wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t someone who was clearly suspicious or creepy. He was a friend who wanted to grab a drink, and drove me back to my car just fine. It was nothing out of the ordinary. At least in the moment, that’s what it seemed like.

“Do you want to press charges?”

“No.”

What I should have done in those next 24 hours was easy for me. The textbook says to get a rape kit done, talk to a counselor, and most importantly, file a police report. The textbook never said it could be a friend who you liked and trusted. That’s where my conflict lay, where I didn’t want to hurt someone, despite how hollow they left me. It was the day after and onward that made everything unclear and confusing. I didn’t know what to do anymore. I just wanted to forget all of it as much as I could.

Forgetting it was impossible. There hasn’t been a single day since the incident where I have not thought about the hours I spent going from feeling vulnerable and helpless, to feeling nothing at all. Every morning has been a continuation of feeling empty because of what he did, and what I keep thinking I let happen. Maybe if I was loud enough when I screamed, it would have made the point more clear. Maybe if I tried harder, I could have pushed him off more easily. Maybe if I thought it was a bad idea to grab a drink with a friend alone, it wouldn’t have ever happened.

I feel so guilty for what happened, for making my friends and my loved ones go through trying to heal me. I feel guilty for something I couldn’t stop, for something I didn’t plan on doing. I feel guilty for thinking of pressing charges on someone I thought I knew and trusted. Someone I know who has gone through a lot, just like anyone else I know, just like me.

My mind has been numb to everything, whether good or bad. I don’t know how to react or how to feel anymore. I go through the motions of everyday hoping something will eventually make me feel again.

Every damn day there’s something bringing me down enough to make me want to forget about all of my responsibilities, and hide in my room until the next morning. I’m stuck in this same routine of worrying, relaxing, and worrying some more. When does it stop? Does it ever end? I feel as if life is making me age too quickly. I’m already tired and not even in my 30s yet.

I’ve been letting my thoughts destroy me inside and out for years and I’ve finally come to a point where I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t sleep without at least a thousand worries 

The one thing I’ve learned to fear the most is myself. Death surrounds us every day in the most simplest of ways, and let me tell you: I’m always aware of it. 

i don’t know how long i can keep up with this “work hard play later” attitude, because i literally was dozing off behind the wheel tonight and had to call a friend of mine to stay awake until i parked in front of my apartment. i knew i’d have to do a lot this semester to make things right again, but it’s just too much stress to put on my shoulders all at once. and sadly i can’t do anything about it. if i drop anything out of my life right now, the only result would be no answers to my problems.

who will pay my rent?

who will pay my tuition?

how else will i be able to stay in college?

how else will i be able to fix my mistakes?

love it when you’re trying to sleep but all your dreams are about the things that keep stressing you out so then you don’t want to, can’t, sleep anymore and turns out it’s only 6am during an annoyingly hot, summer night.