I remember it, the memories have been on repeat in my brain for years and they'll never stop. My mind is a personalized hell.
They couldn't even remember it. They remember the lies, the police reports, my suicide attempts but not when they turned my soul into mush.
I only have the one life and I will spend it haunted by the memories of abuse and ghosts of my potential.
I remember it, opening Aseprite one moment and hiding for my life the next, I walked alone and afraid into the downpour like it was a home.
I wanted to be an artist, I want to be artist but I can't even use a sketchbook without thinking about how much better I could be.
I end every attempt screaming, begging for the memories to stop, lamenting the person I could have been.
One life, One single attempt to exist and it got thrown against a wall and smashed to pieces so she could feel a buzz.
She's still in my life because I have no one left.
I am alone, every attempt to fix that makes it worse. The list of times I've been ignored, abandoned, neglected and exploited just gets longer.
I just want to draw, to create again, to feel like I can actually do something. I haven't posted anything here in years!
I don't want to be this! STOP DOING THIS I DON'T WANT THIS PUT THE BOTTLE DOWN PUT IN DOWN KILL ME KILL ME
All these passions are just rotting away in my head.
The trauma didn't make me stronger, it just made me a hole where a person could have been.
I just want a hug. I want someone to care enough. I want to tell my story.
I need to put my heart into something but it's just a pile of rotten mush now.
Being alone like this hurts so much. I hate. I hate. I hate.
I hate my family, I hate my life, I hate my generation, I hate social media, I hate pubs, I hate being told to "get help", I hate how everyone I meet has a partner.
This is the only life I'm going to get. Why did it have to be this?