I haven’t written a lot in a while. I usually do when I’m hurt or just lonely. Right now I’m neither. I just miss my boyfriend a lot, we haven’t really been apart before.
I had time to read a few of my previous, mostly first entries. Poems and just thoughts brought to words. Most of them about how I’ve pretty much faded into a huge hole. I can’t really explain how I felt exactly. But I’m not afraid to explain why.
I’ve been harmed a lot. A whole lot. And it’s more than I could ever forgive or forget about. I’ve never forgotten about it, even though I’ve been healing for a long time. I still think about it, and it’s hard not to. I don’t think about the person, at all. I don’t want to spend a second thinking about them. But I think about what they’ve put me through.
I don’t know why I craved for them so much, when all they were was absolutely toxic. I’ve been put through so much pain and humiliation, I’ve never felt so broken and done and bad about my own self.
Wanting to help, liking them too much, not wanting to be alone, not wanting to leave someone who probably needed me in a way too?
I’d come home with an almost broken nose, saying I’d bumped into the door. I went to school, trying to cover up bruises on my neck, saying i wore something scratchy before, when someone noticed.
I’d been pulled on my hair and tossed across the room, hit, punched in the face, slapped, choked, asked to do sexual acts, when I refused, I’d be forced to do so in a very coarse way. I’d been told to die. I’d been threatened to be killed as well.
I’d been spit on, apparently appearing in a ten-second fake adults content video with my first name in it, been accused for “cheating”, been threatened to have everyone get the fake video in their mail boxes, even my school, family, friends. Everyone.
All of those things weren’t the worst, though. The worst was being sucked out. Spending way too much energy on something so little, something so fragile and destructing. Giving everything you have to someone and receiving nothing. That’s what hurt the most.
After all that, I lost it. I’m still not telling all of it, because there’s even more I just really don’t want to talk about. But something finally made me leave, which was very hard. Nobody would put up with such things and just leave afterwards.
I was a mess. I felt absolutely miserable. That’s when the starving really started. I’d eaten less before already, as things got out of hand. But the worst was yet to come.
In my entries I talked a lot about thinking about ending it all, thank god I didn’t do anything. After I’d lost about 10kg, not knowing how to keep going, I just did. I just happened to push right through it.
I wrote a lot about everything. A lot of words about missing them and wanting them back. About understanding them as well. Very kind words, to be fair. I don’t feel anything like that anymore. I don’t feel kind about all of this in any way, because none of it is romantic or strong. Being with someone who makes you want to starve yourself to death even after it’s over and still being kind about it, is not brave.
I wasn’t happy and I was still somewhere, very low. But I finally learned to live again. Nobody said I had to forgive, nobody told me to forget. Rather, I’ve been told to talk about it. Talk about it as much as I needed to. Spread awareness as well, because this is not nothing, because it happened.
It’s past and it’s over. But it happened.
And it might even be my own fault for not being strong enough to draw the line and go, but that’s okay. Because it’s been done. And that’s what makes me feel brave at last.
Thanks to my boyfriend I feel safe and loved now. I can finally experience what love should feel like. I’m finally happy. I love my life. I love everyone and everything that’s a part of it and that’s going to become a part of it sooner or later.
