I was hurt, I was broken, I was okay

Contains sensitive content: sensitive language, blood/gore, depression, insomnia, and traumatic events.

I’ve written pages and pages full of my words filled with pain, misery, suffering, happiness, excitement, everything that I’ve ever experienced. I have notebooks and notebooks filled with the pain that comes with my life, the emotional baggage that I carry with me every day and the memories that I carry with me every day.

All of the letters that make up the words that make up the memories that make up the pain and the feelings that come with those memories. It’s all locked in a safe somewhere where nobody can read them.

Nobody can know how much pain I’m in and how much I’ve actually experienced and how bad it was because nobody knows how bad it was and hopefully nobody will ever know. If someone where to find those notebooks, then they would see the letters scramble together to form all of the sentences that I thought—everything that’s happened to me and maybe they’ll actually get what I’ve had to go through and maybe I’ll be gone by then and then I won’t have to face them after they realize how much I am in pain and who I actually am because nobody can ever know who I am. It would be dangerous if they knew, my life would be at risk. Everybody that I’ve ever cared about—their lives would be at risk and I don’t want to be the reason for that because I know what it’s like to be that person, have their life be at risk every day because of this stupid asshole and it’s heartbreaking to think about really to realize there’s people like that who put people in that type of situation and it breaks my heart to realize that I was once that person who was a victim that type of treatment.

It’s sometimes traumatizing to think about how much shit that I’ve had to go through and nobody gets it, different people get parts of it but one person doesn’t totally get it. I’m the only person in this world that has experienced as much as I have, all the betrayal and pain and misery that I’ve carried and experienced.

The letters on the page are just all scrambled up in different orders and taken out so that they can make up the painful memories and words that I have circulating around in my head everyday.

Some memories I have are happy and exciting but most of them that run through my mind every day, they’re the ones that hurt, the ones that I wanna forget.

I write about how much my scars hurt and every time I think about those memories, those scars burn from the pain that I endured to get them because they never actually healed fully and they never will because they’re always gonna be there—reminding me of the pain that’s been caused to me because I was just alive, a kid, trying to live, trying to make sure that I was fed and taken care of and sleeping.

The scars that I get they’re just a little representation of the little bit of pain that I’ve endured.

The letters and thoughts and words formed in my head flow to my fingers into the pen or pencil and onto the paper and there hopefully they’ll stay, but they never do. They are always in my head, repeating themselves again and again until it almost drives me insane until I finally think of something else and then maybe I’ll be okay, but I don’t know if I ever will but the amount of enemies that want to kill me.

I don’t know if I will ever live peacefully and happy with nothing to worry about. Have no worries. Maybe some like the average person might have. Like “Am I being fed regularly? Do I have enough money? Are my kids doing okay? Are my parents doing okay? Am I doing okay?” Maybe one day those will only be my worries instead of “who’s gonna kill me today? What’s gonna happen today? Is somebody gonna kill me? Somebody gonna come after me? Who’s planning on killing me right now?”

When am I ever gonna get out of this loop?

Please help because I really need it.

—Entry #2783

It feels as if my heart just literally broke inside of me.

I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. I feel anger, sadness, hurt, heartbreak, revenge. I don't know.

Those three words will haunt me forever. I want the world to swallow me whole as if I never existed.

My ears are ringing. My heart is pounding against my ribs, acting like its cage. I want to scream and cry and kill. I want to destroy everything I have.

There’s this pit in my stomach that just aches to be healed. The feeling of loneliness of wanting someone to realise how much pain I’m in because no words, no letters can describe how much pain I’m in. No amount of screaming. No amount of killing, No amount of crying can fix that damage that has been done to me.

Their bodies are just lying there. Pale, unmoving, unblinking and my family that I love. The family I despise with my whole heart—my whole soul and being—are standing over them, smiling and laughing. Pointing at how stupid they look dead and how happy they are they don’t have to deal with those annoying assholes anymore.

Those annoying assholes are my family. My world, my everything. When I felt I was family to the people standing over my family that actually gave a fuck about me it was a nice experience but the family that is now dead were my everything. They healed me, broke me, hurt me, fixed me, loved me, cared for me, gave a fuck about me. They were my everything and now they are lying in the soft, green grass, now stained by their burgundy blood seeping from each of their chests and necks and cuts from all over their body making the once healthy looking grass look dead and discolored. All of my family’s members' mouths are open probably from when they were tortured and then killed one by one and the screams that were being ripped from their throats again and again.

Even my 1 year old sister is dead now. She was so innocent.

I have no one.

No one to see, to talk to, to look at without hurting so fucking much, to love.

No one is left of my family. No one is left of my legacy. No one is left that I care about. No one is left for me to take care of. No one is left for me to give a fuck about. No one is left for them to check up on me. No one is left for us to have family game night again. No one is left to tuck into bed every night. No one is left to sing to. No one is left to sing with. No one is left for me to play my instrument for. No one is left to laugh at. No one is left for me to laugh with. No one is left to rant to. No one is left to be there for me. No one is left to hug me. No one is left to read with me. No one is left to fight with. No one is left to read through the night until the next day with me. No one is left anymore. No one is left for me to love.

No one is left for me.

No one is left.

—Entry #2784

I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep.

Thoughts keep barging into my head—unwanted ones, bad ones. Ones that make me shake with pain. Ones that make my lungs tighten in my chest.

God I hate them.

—Entry #2785

Every time that he broke me, he pushed me—I felt a wall crash and something break inside of me. Another inch closer to the edge of sanity and the beginning of insanity.

When you guys went there I felt something break inside of me. The next day I came to the realization that I had no one left. No one to share my thoughts with. No one. Just myself and no one else. I

felt something break inside of me when you guys left. I felt my heart physically shatter inside of me.

When I came to the realization—the next day—that I had no one left but a possibly going to happen kid, I felt another thing inside me break.

Another wall.

Another dam.

I couldn’t eat that night. I didn’t sleep because when I closed my eyes I had images flood my head and I couldn’t get them out. I didn’t sleep or eat or do anything for weeks.

The staff noticed that I lost a lot of weight and wasn’t getting sleep. They were worried and they intervened when they had to. When they told me over and over again that I was going to have a kid. I finally started eating and doing things for myself like I started training and showering and at least trying to get some sleep each night even though I had terrible nightmares because of that day you guys left.

I only kept going after you guys left because of him. I would talk to him in my stomach every night to help me get my thoughts out of my head and to somewhere in space and time. When he was a baby I would do the same.

He doesn’t remember it at all. I didn't do it for too long after he was born but all the time before he was I did.

When my kid was born I felt my heart stitch back together a little.

When I realized one day that he looked like him. I will never forget that day. He looks so much like him, like he was there with me almost.

He has my brains, sarcasticness, and humor, of course but he has his kindness, his laugh, his lovingness, his carefree notion, he has his looks too. He has the brown hair and sharp, blue eyes that I could look forever into, and just everything about him is him.

I will never forget that day when it felt like he was right there beside me all along as I never knew it until that day.

When I thought I lost him I felt another wall inside of me break, another inch closer to insanity. I didn’t know if I was going to get him back but thank god that I did.

When I cried on my birthday I felt this crack in my dam crack, in the big stability wall that holds all my pressure–the stress, the sadness, the everything that I have experienced that was bad. When I cried on my birthday I felt another crack in it.

And ever since then when I cry…I’ve felt another crack in it.

—Entry#2786