i miss you missing me @foreverlongingforu - Tumblr Blog

““Making love”, they call it but how can it be labeled as such when there was no love involved at all? “Making love”, they call it but for him it was purely about power and they know not what they say when they describe it in that way. “Rape”, the counselor calls it as I sit there sobbing on the couch, “Trauma”, the psychiatrist calls it prescribing yet another pill as if that will somehow fill the gaping void he left inside me. MY LIFE, I call it, feeling sick all over once again MY LIFE, I call it, wanting to crawl out of my own skin. My life, my whole damn life revolves around what he did, My life, my whole damn life is not my own but his, the way my body was back then – and he is not even alive anymore because cancer cruelly consumed him the way he cruelly consumed my purity and my soul, and it has been five entire years since he last walked this earth yet that still does not stop the tears that won’t quit streaming from my eyes, yet that still does not stop the pain, the screams, the cries that I relive every night. Cancer cruelly consumed him, yet somehow it did not feel cruel enough to bring me justice, but maybe I want justice less than I simply want some simple peace of mind. Maybe I want justice less than I just want the world to feel fair and kind again. “Making love”, they call it although age seven is awful young for such an act, “a slut” they call me, although I was under the impression that sluts enjoy sex and I never wanted this at all, although I reject the notion that the word “slut” should even exist because sleeping around with a million consenting men is infinitely less shameful than sleeping around with one unconsenting child yet somehow still I am the one who is shamed. “A liar”, they call me but what good would this lie serve me when it cost me my sanity and my family? “A liar”, they call me, but I am far from truthless but I speak nothing but the truth, and I do not give a damn if it seems ruthless to speak out, because the rape of a child should never come about and if it does, and since it has, I have no more mercy to give. “Be quiet”, they tell me, just as he did when I screamed but quiet I will no longer be because regardless of whether or not they can see this harsh reality, it exists and I no longer will sit and say nothing if my anger and voice can be turned into power to make the world a safer place for girls to be girls and to make the phrase “boys will be boys” only apply to children playing in the mud and not to guilty, grown-ass men who commit sexual assault. “Be quiet”, they tell me, just as he did when I screamed but quiet I will no longer be, because this slut refuses to be shamed any more and I am building myself up off the floor of my silence. “Be quiet”, they tell me, “be quiet”, he said, but quiet I will never be again.”

—

stay-close

I don’t know where my head is at anymore. One moment I’ll be fine, and the next moment, I’ll be crying my eyes out.

inkbyaporia

The light in your eyes is not the street lamp that will guide me home. All of my friends tell me I make decisions too quickly for my own good, leave people too soon, but I’ve always believed love isn’t a sensation you can think through. You only feel it or you don’t. It’s either there or it’s not, it either exists like a fire in the darkest night your eyes have ever seen or never alighted at all. I’ve tried to run from that truth, I’ve tried to bury myself in arms that felt more like coffins than they did bedsheets. I tried to suffocate so you can breathe, I tried to drown myself because the you wanted me to become a part of your ocean so badly and I could never tell you “no”. I tried. And I tried. And I tried. But everything inside of me yearns for something more. Maybe there is so much darkness inside of me that I crave for the brightest of fires, something that will tear the fabric of my soul apart, but deep down I know you never managed as more than a flicker within me— not because you weren’t enough, but because you believed loving me was a habit instead of a revolution.

ii.

I am so much more than a “good morning” text or compliments I could find on Instagram posts. I am so much more than what you thought I needed to remain comfortable. Fuck, love is so much more than remaining comfortable. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what love is supposed to feel like, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like being trapped. Deep down, I know I am meant for something greater than affection that reeks of routine and the fear that I’ll never find anything better. Love isn’t supposed to be a chore. Love isn’t supposed to feel like passing the time. Love isn’t supposed to be mediocre. Life is too short, too full, too beautiful to be populated by regular love and lovers who cannot understand that affection is more of a revolution than an emotion. I am sorry if I am asking for too much, but I would kill myself before I allow the fires that reside within me to slowly dim in light of an affection that never burned bright enough. I’m sorry women like me don’t come with warning signs, but I pray someday someone will fall in love with me due to the flames alone.

— ap (12.18) loving me was a revolution but you never learned how to handle fire

lilacthoughtsforyou

i stopped counting,

the nights i cried for you

the times i told you that i loved you

the words i wrote for you

the dreams i had of you,

the days i spent missing you

i stopped counting,

3 months ago

radiantquotes

Do you ever just miss someone so much it hurts? But you don’t talk to this person anymore. So you’re just left sitting there silently missing someone who will never know.

confessionvault

With the end of our relationship came the end of our friendship and that’s what hurt the most. I miss having you around.

place-2-vent

“I should be over this by now, but it still hurts.”

- 2yrs later

finally accepting

i have finally realised you are gone. not coming back. you’d think that after 5 months of you being alone i would’ve already realised that. but i always imagined you’d text me again saying you missed me. and i keep having dreams you are still here. but tonight... tonight was different, i did my routine of reading our messages and watching our videos (a routine which has newly changed from daily to monthly) and i noticed... i noticed that i no longer recognised us in those videos. the videos where you kissed me, held my hand, smiled at me. it’s strange because 5 months seems long enough to forgot your touch. but it has taken me this long to realise, to have it sink in that i you are actually gone. i forgot your scent, your laugh, your smile, your voice but mostly i’ve forgotten your touch. and it’s finally sunk in that i’ll never experience it again.

- yet another goodbye and perhaps actually my last...

#i love for you #missing him poem #i miss you poem #sad poem #im never enough #come back to me#i was in love

consciousprose

alone

I have become so accustomed to being alone. Laying in my bed for hours, encased in this duvet, staring at the ceiling with old water stains and peeling paint, unable to will my mind and body to move or speak. Please hand me proof that I am indeed still alive, intact in reality and not imprisoned in a nightmare. But, these are pointless requests. Memories and the lack of thereof still haunt and taunt.

I cannot blame my perpetrator for this, can I? Because, isn’t this all my own doing…? They tell me it is.

I chose to wear the tight dress that made my ass look fine. I ordered one last drink before the final call. And I trusted you too much in my drunken, vulnerable, and needy state. But intoxication did not equal yes.

So as you continue to live your life careless and free, I am laying in my bed alone, wondering how I can erase the stains left on my soul. The mind may not remember, but the subconscious is rapt with distress.

- aleta jay

kuromisltz

i do not enjoy feeling

i take solace in the moments where i go numb to the world around me

my mind is wiped clean of every emotion. of every thought

is this as close to heaven that i will ever get

but everytime i must be ripped from the beautiful bliss of nothingness

the return to my nightmare is unfair and cruel

suddenly i’m being ripped apart by too many feelings. the agony, the grief, the rage

i’ve grown accustomed to suffering, but the misery that comes with being dragged from my brief state of imagined nonexistence is unbearable

these sensations implode from within and overwhelm me

i can’t breathe. the tingling in my body turns into a throbbing pain

i’m crumbling to pieces. soon it won’t be possible to haphazardly put me back together

all that will remain of me is fine dust

systemscrawls

i feel like its all fake,, but

i was so hypersexual as a child. who would fake that?

i can still taste the salt of his skin in my mouth. who would fake that?

i can feel the itchiness around my lips. who would fake that?

i freak out whenever i sit on the edge of a tub. who would fake that?

i had a panic attack when i saw him over the summer. who would fake that?

alters have developed bc my young brain couldnt handle the trauma. who would fake that?

i cant sit on that spot on the couch anymore. who would fake that?

i flip out whenever i see someone who resembles him. who would fake that?

i get triggered when i see anything relating to the video we watched the first time he did it. who would fake that?

i can barely handle being touched. who would fake that?

i hear your name and my fight or flight is activated. who would fake that?

i get flashbacks and nightmares and body memories to everything. who would fake that?

i hate feeling like ive made it all up. i beat myself up over it. who would fake all of this though?

brattybutterfly

squiseaudarts

the fact that my view of my body is so distorted that i don’t even know what i really look like at this point is terrifying. one minute i think i look okay and not even 10 mins later i want to cry if i look in the mirror. i hate this so much.