I fought for my life for you, won’t you do the same for me?
Please watch your sugar.
Love, your daughter
Posted from WordPress for Android
I fought for my life for you, won’t you do the same for me?
Please watch your sugar.
Love, your daughter
Posted from WordPress for Android
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.
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.
Research and constant logical analytically reasoning is just how I survive. Therefore, once again I’d like to share another found fact. Well fact based on experimental research. Many attempted suicides of bi-polar persons includes unconscious actions. According to the research, they found that bi-polar subjects had been in many coincidentally dangerous situations. This example also goes for self-harm.
Fantasy always follows us
I don’t understand. How is this image so clear? My imagination has certainly surpassed my own expectations.
My head turned to the seat next to me. I stare wondering on, why is it so real. I literally feel as though I’m staring back at myself. This is like the movie ‘The Black Swan.’
I wonder, why is she here? Does she have something to say? Speak up. I want to know why you’re here.
Although I know she is not real, my gut tells me to believe. To believe what I see. To seek truth from this girl, she knows more than me. My life is a book of deception but, she sees it through untainted glass. She knows my story.
But why won’t she speak. I stare straight into her eyes, seeking insight. But nothing, it’s blank. She is Surviving, existing, but not really living. She’s just visiting. A ghost wafting about this earth. Knowing more than any of us. She has the answers. She- she just won’t tell me!!
Tell me why am I here. What’s wrong with me? Help me. God please you have to help me. Save me from myself. Give me anything to hold on to.
I recede my pleas, and turn to look out the window. I know the silver lining. I always see them. And right now, I am alone. This battle is mine and so are these answers I seek. I have no ties to people, I am truly free. I can do what I want and I’ll be too oblivious to care about anyone else. I’m too busy surviving this life. Its hard work, but I’m free. I’m not scared, especially not of death.
Next time, a story of unconscious attempted suicide.
A deeper Look
I have found according to research found in recent scholarly articles that they cannot find the cause of bipolar disorder. Studies showed that a bipolar person is not bi polar due to their circumstances. However, a person’s bipolar may flare up due to unstable living conditions such as, abusive parents or socio-economic status or alcoholic/drug addict parents.
Further research shows that bipolar is a similar case to schizophrenia. That is, schizophrenia and bipolar are most likely due to genetics. I know that they have recently found the specific gene that makes someone schizophrenic, and can perform an operation to remove this gene. If they had the gene to remove bipolar, if the ’genetics theory’ is true, would you give up bipolar?
I find it’s as if you removing a part of you. Well if I was schizophrenic than definitely, that’s a lot harder to live with. But regarding bi polar? Than you may as well call us all sheep. I think the medication keeps us sane and yet capable of being different all at once. But then again I have only been on medication for about 4 months. I haven’t even had a relapse as yet.
Everything I look at is the colour red. My peripheral vision is absolutely blur. Im focused on my target. I zoom in like it’s a videogame and analyse:
Pillow. Soft. Indestructible. Safe. Bang! I hit my fists against it. No satisfaction, I try hitting harder over and over again. No satisfaction. I need to ruin something, disintegrate parts of the earth. Make sense of our worthless existence. Make sense of the fact that death means nothing. Living is worse. But why would we still choose it. Why don’t I ever die?
BREAK THE F!*@EN WORLD!! Running around in circles in my room. I have no idea where to go and what to do. I cannot cope with being me, I desperately need freedom. Like a bird in the sky, or a wild wolf on the prow. ‘I’m going to hurt someone, I’m going to hurt someone’ I repeatedly say in the back of my mind as I try to think of a clever way to ruin something on this earth. The most fun is always people. They somewhat easy targets, but they’re the best, because they’re a challenge. Psychological and philosophical theories put in to practice by me.
My life is like a page out of Charles dickens books. Grey c obblestone and dark mist. A world filled with abuse, pain and unfairness. I drop to the ground as I motion my arm to stab the ground. Blood spits out from the ground and I scream, “I hate this place!”
“Oh please” says my ‘mrs Logical voice’, “you hate the entire world, not just this place, stop pretending this is the root of all your problems. Now get up and carry on with your life.” I begin to stand up from the ground when my eyes jerk forward, for me to realise that I completely zoned out. I find myself standing at the centre of the school, completely disorientated.
I carry on, as if everything is normal and meet my first possible target. Anonymous one smiles at me as I walk close, but all I think of is pushing her against the wall, holding her by her throat and telling her that’s she’s a flirt and a slut. Anonymous two stand beside her and smiles at me too. She’s not a worth playing with, this is a game of wits, she’s just an ant that’s easy to flick away. After sharing smiles and friendly hugs I enter the classroom. With a coolness to my walk, I drop my bag beside the table and sit on my seat.
Focus. Target. Attack. I found her. Watch me play this all day!
A story of how ‘how to win friends and influence people’ was like my bible, in the next post, get posted via email!
I toss and turn, but no luck. As usual I can’t sleep. I lie on my stomach, should I do something or try to sleep? I shift and lie on my back, trying to rest my body by closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. Avoiding distraction from my mind, I concentrate solely on breathing. After a couple of hundred breaths –yes I counted. i sit up in my bed and stare at the dark, trying to construct an interesting idea out of the shades of darkness before my eyes. Let me elaborate; when I’m looking for an exciting out-of-the-box kind of idea, I don’t look at anything specific, it’s as if I’m looking for a sign from the energies of the earth to tell me what to do next.
My mind begins constructing ideas out of shapes and colours and somehow I end up thinking “I want milkshake”. I have no idea whether this has anything to do with having a mood disorder, or is it just my overactive imagination.
I get out of my bed sluggishly, one leg at a time. I feel the cold air on my legs and wonder is it really cold or am I imagining the cold? My emotions are so pointless. My life is continuous cycle of different personalities at different times. I can never say for sure who I am or what I feel. I have no opinions. These thoughts as well, they’re just part of this exhausting cycle. Today I think of my boring life, tomorrow I’ll love it, yesterday I was just too excited to live and so on and so on.
I drag my feet till I get to my room door. As I place my hand on the door handle I think ‘here we go’. I have a positive attitude and I’m ready to face the world. Leaving my room, I walk down the passage against my own will. Fighting the negativity, fighting the force field that’s stopping me from moving forward. Pulling myself away from my own mind, my thoughts are detrimental. Aaah! I just can’t take it! I enter the kitchen and I immediately collapse on a chair. As if I’ve run a marathon and lost. Completely defeated and exhausted. I can’t help it. I have to think, what is wrong with me? Why is it so hard for me to live? When will I start feeling better again?
I don’t see what’s the point of feeling? Feelings are lies. Masks of what is logical and true. Feelings change all the time and they change your behaviour. For what?! I don’t deserve this! Going crazy in my head nearly every day wondering what is true. What I truly feel. Why do I see the world so differently? I don’t care anymore. I hate this game called life. I hate my place on this earth I hate my thoughts. I want to personally crack my skull open and rip out my useless brain. I want to blow it to pieces. I want to be dead!
I give up, no thoughts. Supress feelings. Move on. Milkshake is for those who care. Those who feel happy once they had one. I feel nothing now. I don’t need anything. Just sleep. I’m going back to sleep.