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Literature Text
You see a lot about abuse nowadays. TV, billboards, and ads that make you cringe. Sometimes you just sit and think, "Wow. I'm glad I'm not the victim of abuse."
And then, suddenly, you wake up one morning and discover you have been abused. You've been abused for the last nine years.
I've always been on my toes with abuse. My mother instilled it in me—a deep-seeded need to defend everyone. Look out for all the signs! Self-abuse, domestic abuse, verbal abuse. I knew all the symptoms and I could tell anyone in a second if they needed to clear out as fast as possible. Yet I still managed to miss all the signals in myself.
I guess emotional abuse is different in a way. Apparently, it takes many forms. I would still look out for it to make sure I wasn't getting it from my parents or brother or boyfriend or any of the usual suspects. Yet they all treated me with dignity and respect. I never thought to look at the place I usually went to for comfort. I didn't know abuse came from friends.
The funny thing is, nothing changed today. I just woke up, woke up to the exact same argument you've fed me for the last few years. My fault, my responsibility. If I didn't do a and b, then x wouldn't happen. The same formula regurgitated for a new day.
I'm sorry, I love you, but I'm done taking the blame. I'm done bearing the responsibility. I'm done biting the bullet and apologizing for something that I know isn't completely my fault. I messed up, but the fact that you can magnify my faults while ignoring that you've done anything remotely wrong proves that I don't deserve this. I'm done sitting. I'm going to try and stand up now.
I've never stood without you. I guess I'll have to get used to it.
You were never alone, by the way. I know that's what you told everyone: you were alone, you were alone, you were alone. But you never were. You just wanted to be.
You might just get your wish.
And then, suddenly, you wake up one morning and discover you have been abused. You've been abused for the last nine years.
I've always been on my toes with abuse. My mother instilled it in me—a deep-seeded need to defend everyone. Look out for all the signs! Self-abuse, domestic abuse, verbal abuse. I knew all the symptoms and I could tell anyone in a second if they needed to clear out as fast as possible. Yet I still managed to miss all the signals in myself.
I guess emotional abuse is different in a way. Apparently, it takes many forms. I would still look out for it to make sure I wasn't getting it from my parents or brother or boyfriend or any of the usual suspects. Yet they all treated me with dignity and respect. I never thought to look at the place I usually went to for comfort. I didn't know abuse came from friends.
The funny thing is, nothing changed today. I just woke up, woke up to the exact same argument you've fed me for the last few years. My fault, my responsibility. If I didn't do a and b, then x wouldn't happen. The same formula regurgitated for a new day.
I'm sorry, I love you, but I'm done taking the blame. I'm done bearing the responsibility. I'm done biting the bullet and apologizing for something that I know isn't completely my fault. I messed up, but the fact that you can magnify my faults while ignoring that you've done anything remotely wrong proves that I don't deserve this. I'm done sitting. I'm going to try and stand up now.
I've never stood without you. I guess I'll have to get used to it.
You were never alone, by the way. I know that's what you told everyone: you were alone, you were alone, you were alone. But you never were. You just wanted to be.
You might just get your wish.
Literature
Self Hate
Self Hate
They tell me I cant be perfect,
That useless Ill always be;
They say Im so worthless,
That failures the only thing Ill see.
Looking in the mirror,
Ill list all my flaws;
I will stay secluded,
In these four walls.
Since its what I deserve,
Ill endure the pain;
Mentally unstable,
Im no longer sane.
Its horrible to know,
There is no end to this I can see;
Its even worse to say,
The one telling me this
Is me.
Literature
Depression
I'm tired of being here,
all locked up in my head.
Every day I hear a whisper,
and I'm closer to being dead.
Something taps me on the shoulder,
something I can't fight.
When it talks in that low voice,
my eyes are shut so tight.
Once it gets to a cetain point,
and I'm still sitting on the ground,
it tells me to do things,
I'm trying to ignore the sound.
Its voice is harsh and filled with confidence,
and I can hear a hint of sorrow.
Even when it's telling me,
I won't live to see tomorrow.
I don't know what to say,
and I don't know what to do.
I'm still hearing it now,
and I'm still suffering too.
I can't tell what its weak
Literature
Dealing With Depression
Look at me,
Tell me everything you see.
What do you see? Are you sure you're seeing me?
I promise you that you're hardly catching a glimpse of what I really am.
If you could look deeper,
You'd see the ever-present demons in my mind,
& How hard they are to keep confined.
You'd see all the scars, hidden underneath my skin:
One for every single time I've thought about feeling the sweet release of the razor,
Or dreamed about the loving, easy, & soft embrace of death.
If you could look a little bit deeper,
You'd see the monsters blocking my heart,
& You'd see them whispering to me-
You'd hear them
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Comments6
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omfg I know EXACTLY what that last part is like I have a friend that is the same way...it annoys me soooooo much X3