Trigger warning: depression, abuse, suicidal thoughts... personal experiences.
Just needed to vent somewhere, and I don't feel like drawing. I just... want to share, I guess.



Take it from my perspective.

You're here, sitting in front of your laptop, considering it for a while until you start to type.
The words come out almost by themselves, but you know it's going to be hard.
It's going to be hard.
Your head feels weird. It's a sudden compression that makes you slightly dizzy. Your eyes cannot focus.
Then it's all back to normal again.

That's what happens every time you want to remember.
Remember what? Everything.
Your childhood, your experiences. How do you even know english? You never learned it in the first place.
It's all bit and pieces when you manage to reach into the fog that is your mind.
You don't have a timeline. You are not even sure if it actually happened.
Your therapist says yes, it is real. But what if it's a dream or you're just making it all up?

You remember yourself at four years of age.
You remember your mom hiding you behind her legs, putting her hand in front of you to stop you from coming closer.
You remember your dad, sitting on the last step of the wooden stairs. He's got blood all over him.
The front door is broken. There's a hole in the middle. The house is cold.
That's where it ends.

You're already shaking.
Goosebumps are building inside your throat.
They feel like a predator biting tight, waiting for you to suffocate.

You don't want to cry.
Even if you let go, though, no tear will come out.
It had happened since you started your hormone treatment.
You don't even question it. Men don't cry.

You recall moving in with your grandmother.
Father isn't there anymore. You don't know where he went.
You wonder what you did wrong. Was it something you said?

Your mom tells you, twenty years later, he did come back during that time.
Grandma let him in. He always had a beer in his hand, just like your uncle.
Mom says he was mean. It doesn't surprise you, because you know.
You know he took you with him from time to time as you grew up.
You don't remember much.

He'd take you places. There were mountains and woods.
You loved to pick up lizards and see the fish he'd reel up.
You felt sad for them. They would always get thrown into a bucket and swim in circles.
You kind of related to them, but you didn't know why.

Dad would take you places again.
You remember getting ice cream, candy and chocolate.
As you walked together, he'd tell you how mean your mom was for not giving him a second chance.
He'd also tell you you were better off with him, and that you should stay.

You never remember the nights.
You know you two shared a bed, a bed you saw in your nightmares when you got older.
But, for now, it was just a bed.

You remember him getting angry.
He didn't like it when you covered yourself and didn't let him escort you out of the shower.
You guessed it was for your safety, but he had never mentioned it being slippery.

You had one friend there. You didn't like that friend.
It was a girl, "just like you". But it didn't feel right. You didn't feel like a girl at all.
Still, she was the only one who wanted to play with you.
She was a neighbor, and she'd visit you daily.
You didn't like the way she acted. But you brushed it off.
It was your only friend.

You had more back home, with mom.
You would travel with Sarah, and spend nights at Grisel's house.
But dad said you were better off with him.

He made you call mom again.
He made you tell her you wanted to stay one more week.
You wanted to go back home, but you didn't want to see him angry again.
You only had hotdogs for food. Your long, curly hair, was getting matted.
You didn't know how to brush, neither did dad.

You don't know when or how, but you were back with mom.
Years later, you traveled to visit dad again.
But this time, your older brother was there with you. A friend of his was there too.

You stopped answering your phone.
You were fourteen... or was it fifteen? It doesn't matter.
You don't want to answer his calls anymore.
But you feel bad. It's your dad, and he said he loved you.
You decide to pick up the phone one last time.
He calls you sweetie, he asks how you're doing.
You want to answer, but he starts calling you a whore and asking why.
You hang up.
You start to cry.
You don't understand why.

You don't remember school at all.
You recall meeting new people on the internet.
You recall fighting and losing said people.
What did you do wrong?

One last walk from class to home.
You were on edge, like you always did.
Every car, every person that would walk beside you. You felt you'd be harmed.
Grandma had always said it since you were a toddler.
They're going to kidnap you.
They're going to rape you.

You did it, you finished high school.
But where did your real life friends go?
They stopped inviting you places. You didn't want to go out anyway, they said.
But you did. They didn't understand you felt in danger.

The world became scarier.
You were now eighteen. You had to get a job.
But you were making money from drawing. That was a job, right?
Mom and your new stepdad didn't think so.
You argued with them. They'd call you lazy, and you'd hate yourself for it.
You still do.

You're now twenty one.
You feel like a burden to everyone you know.
Online friends tell you you're not.
But you see your crush walking away due to how you behave.
You only wanted to say you missed them.
Why can't you word things better? You ask yourself.
You look at the mirror and only feel disgust.

You cut your wrists just a little.
Your crush breaks up with you that same night, right after you tell them what you're doing.
You felt that coming.
You always do.
People will abandon you sooner or later.

You think you don't deserve to live.
You're considering jumping into the sea again.
It's just right there, you can hear the waves calling at night.
But you got work to finish, and you want to be responsible.

You fucked things up again.
You have to learn to let it go, but it still stings after so many months go by.
You're scared of posting this, but you feel like it's going to make you feel better.
You will forget everything again.
You always do.
If they don't talk to you, you don't remember you can reach out too.

You forgot your tea in the counter again.
Why can't your brain just work?
You forgot what you said. You deleted the messages.
You didn't have a chance to explain.

You're alone again.
Why does everyone have to leave?
Some people are still there. But you forget to reach out again.
You will repeat your mistakes.
Blame it all on yourself.
You're a failure. You can't keep your thoughts still.

It's gonna be fine, you tell yourself for the sixth time.
But you will forget again.
And again.
And again.
Is it ever going to end?