Tag Archives: bipolar


Dear mother,
I fought for my life for you, won’t you do the same for me?
Please watch your sugar.
Love, your daughter

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Result of sexual assault pt.2

 As I post this I want my readers to know how sorry I am for not posting last Monday as it simply slipped my mind. In reconciliation I am posting the prequel now and the next essay tomorrow. Thank you and enjoy.

The confessions of a monster
The night he turned me

As a dreadful story is about to be told. There must be a dreadful weather to go along.

Raining, nearly storming outside. She sits on her bed, not cold nor scared. She lies warmly in her blanket.As she cuddles into safety she drifts off to sleep. Little does she know of the fate that lies before her. Will she remember at all, of the girl she was before?

One step two steps, a few steps taken quietly. In the blackened darkness along the hallway. One step two steps a few steps and his in the doorway. He sneaks in, his in her room. Staring at her as she lies in wait. He sees her calmly beauty. He lusts and trusts her body. He knows she’ll want this, he knows she’ll be happy, he knows she’ll understand him and he also knows she is asleep.

He gets excited by his choice, he drops to his knees, aside the bed he sits. The duvet lies limply over her thinly body. His hand finds its way under the duvet. His hand brushes her thigh. He stops to notice she is still in a deep slumber. He moves his hand he slips it into her pants. He knows now his come too far to turn back. With courage he must continue the ritual of turning her.

He touches her, he begins to massage, and it feels so good she thinks, yet in her sleep she is clueless. He begins to rub, forming circles around her cunt. He cannot stop, it’s all he hoped for. He goes faster and faster. His eyes grow wider and wider. He stares at her beautiful face, he is so sorry now. He is a monster. He has come with purpose yet his ready to leave only with sorrow.

She turns her head to face him, her eyes gently open. Say it isn’t so, she knows what is happening. He jumps up and tells to go back to sleep. His eyes are in terrifying shock. He runs out the room. One step two steps he sneaks back to bed.

She just lying. She just wondering. She wants to sleep she is so tired. Tears are forming, her eyes are soaking. What now she wonders. The tears are falling her heart is breaking, she is so confused can someone please save her. Is there any light out there? Please someone help her.

The darkness, for the first time, has never been so empty. Her thoughts are blank, her body in shock. What more can she do then stare into nothingness. She listens to the pouring rain, she use to believe it a beautiful thing but, now it’s only despairing and it will forever remind her of this night.

Just then an angel appears. An angel of gold with white light emitting from it to brighten the whole room like lightening would. Her heart is beating fast as she stares at the angel’s striking eyes. She knew it, she knew she lost her life tonight and the angel is here to fetch her. To free her soul of this horror. The angel will lift this girl’s burdens and fears off her shoulders.

It comes closer to her. Her eyes shut tight to keep out the bright light. The angel kisses her gently on the mouth. She never felt such softness nor believed in such gentleness and it would be the very last time. As the angel pulls away slowly, away with the angel goes her soul. She is left in her room, as an empty shell

Never before has she felt like there was a dark hole inside of her. She is hollow, she has lost everything good in her. She will lie in the darkness and cry and cry, for the angel to bring back her soul.

But until then, she will wait. And as she waits, the hole will grow larger and deeper. She will become more lost as time goes by. She will be alone, she knows, she will have no love, she knows. This hole she will try to fill with exhausted love and tired want. She is a dead girl, she can dump anything inside her, good or bad and she will lose it to the dark hole.

Now she sees herself, just like the pitiful monster that made her, she can only fill the whole with abuse. Constant, ongoing and relentless manipulative abuse.

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Result of sexual assault

My demons, my chaos, my life

I’m sitting in my room. It’s boiling hot. This fucking summer heat. I don’t switch on the air conditioner. I like the feeling of my body fluids running down my neck. My hair is sticky, my t shirt is off and I’m rubbing my nipples. It feels so good. I feel so good. Dammit I need to get these pants off. I slide my hands under my underwear. I start off with a gentle massage. Then go quicker and quicker. Fuck! I love you. I love it when you touch me like that. Sometimes I think of you and all I want to do is see you again. I want to see you every time we fuck. I want you to be with me, like the very first. How you taught me. You taught me so well. You knew me so well. You dirty fucking devil inside my head. You planted your evil inside my head. I’m just like you now. In dire need to be abused, to abuse. Fuck you! I’m rubbing harder and harder. I am you.

Ahhhh yesss yes yesss! The climax! It’s perfect. I waited all day for this. I stick my fingers in and come two more times. Thinking of you. You make me come.

I am the survivor, you didn’t do anything to make me who I am or did you? You’re worse than my molester. You fucking useless piece of ignorance. Careless and fucking heartless. It’ll take me to kill someone. Then fuck them. And then kill myself, for you to notice the monster I am. I keep telling you. I kept telling you. But nothing. No remorse. So sure of yourself and our lives. You make me sick. But don’t worry, he made me sick too.

It’s like he turned me into a vampire…

To be continued next Monday.

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Cry Like a Waterfall




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It starts the same every time. I sit and lie on my bed thinking of how painful it is to live. How a life can be so hard for some. I know they have a purpose. I know everything in nature has a pattern and meaning. And often amounts to something great. but it’s so hard. Their lives have maybe more importance, or maybe just the same as people who are doing well. No one has a perfect life, but some lives are just so much easier to live. Thinking about the fames in warzone countries in Africa, trickles of water rolls out of my eyes and along my cheek. Here we go again. Im going to cry and cry. The world won’t change. Why do I need to cry? I feel worse after anyway, with a stuffy nose and puffy eyes. The salty tears increases, I’m definitely crying now. I shift over to my dressing table and stare into my painstaking soul. Why can’t I save the world?

 I watch the abundance of tears that flow out of my eyes. I imagine myself as a huge beautiful mountain. With little bits of jagged edges. Dark shadows below the light green trees. And bright white flowers growing from in between the cracks.

Towards the end of the mountain is gushing water. Flowing rapidly over the protruding rocks at the bottom of the mountain. It’s beautiful and perfect. White and bright blue sparkling water against shades of brown of the mountain. Like a painting, a masterpiece I am.

As I cry and cry hoping it will help, I realise: “Oh dear the mountain is drowning.” Surrounded by water that rises a centimetre daily. Slowly, slowly this mountain will no longer be. A huge eye, formed by the edges of the mountain, is crying, water pouring over the rocks. The mountain is drowning itself. Consumed by its own pain.

Nothing helps. Not tears. Not knives. I cannot help myself. No one can help me. A dark room a dark world, the pain just increases day by day. I can hear the cries of millions of people. Ringing in my ears are the struggles of children. Children younger than me in worse situations.

Rocky mountains stand beside it. Dry and hot. But taller than ever. My masterpiece my beauty, is just entrapment. No hands to wipe the tears. No legs to run away. No resources to save the world.

But wait! This amazing scenery makes the world happy. People are happy to see such beauty, furthermore this mountain has a purpose. It grows flowers and trees that help the earth. It creates shallow gushing water so bears can feed on fish. And don’t forget the adventure seeking river rafters, they love rapids.

“Wait what are you doing?” A voice in my head asks. “We sad right now. Don’t try to use that positive shit on me. I’m not happy. I don’t want to be happy. I’m feeling down, down as low as the waterfall, falling to my death. I’m not making up positive thoughts in my head. That just irritates my sad. My sad needs to live and be expressed.”

I am a mountain: Isolated, immovable and eventually non-existent.    

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