The unedited version of a girl in the dark.

[sxdgirldiaries]

ʟᴇᴛ'ꜱ ʙᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛɪᴇꜱ..? ♡/↻

♡ ᴄᴀᴛ ʟᴀᴅʏ.

♡ ᴄᴏᴢʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇʀ.

♡ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ᴇɴᴛʜᴜꜱɪᴀꜱᴛ.

♡ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜᴇʀ.

♡ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ ɢɪʀʟɪᴇ.

♡ ꜱᴀᴅ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ.

♡ ᴄᴀɴᴄᴇʀ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀ.

♡ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ.

[sxdgirldiaries]

Thought i knew you… every version of you i fell for. The laughs, the promises, the way you looked at me.

Turns out it was all a lie.

I don’t know you at all.

And the worst part?

I still have to live with the pieces you left behind.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I’m done.

Done with life, done with people, done with this endless fucking cycle that keeps dragging me under.

I don’t even know how I’m still sitting here typing this when everything inside me just wants to disappear.

Years of my life I gave, pieces of myself I’ll never get back, and for what? To find out none of it was real. He never loved me the way I deserved. Maybe he never loved me at all.

Now I can’t trust anyone. Not a single soul. Every message, every “I’m here for you,” every promise feels like another trap waiting to snap shut.

I’m closed off, guarded, exhausted from even trying to let people in. The phone rings and my chest tightens until I can’t breathe. I’d rather sit in silence than risk another knife in my back.

I don’t even want to be here anymore.

The thought keeps circling like smoke.. heavy, choking, constant. The pain in my body, the weight in my chest, the way my mind won’t shut up… it’s too much.

I’m tired of fighting just to exist. Tired of pretending I’m okay. I’m barely holding on. Tired of waking up and doing it all over again when nothing feels worth it.

I’m so fucking done.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I want to scream that I’m not okay, that the panic attacks, the self-harm scars I keep hiding, the nights I don’t eat or sleep… they’re winning.

I’m so fucking tired of surviving.I keep thinking about just vanishing. Starting over somewhere no one knows my name, my diagnosis, my sob story.

No more posts begging for help, no more forced smiles on camera, no more “sad girl writer” trying to turn pain into something beautiful.

Just silence.

Peace.

Maybe in that silence I could finally breathe without feeling like I’m letting everyone down.

[sxdgirldiaries]

The water is so hot it burns my skin pink, steam curling up like ghosts around the bathroom light. I’m sitting here with my knees pulled to my chest, tattoos glistening, and all I can think is… it would be so easy right now.

Just slide under. Let the water close over my head. Hold my breath until it stops hurting.

Gone.

Quiet.

No more fighting.

Everything is too much.

The pain in my body that never fucking leaves, the exhaustion that lives in my bones, the constant noise in my head screaming that I’m failing.

Three babies who need me, fur babies who curl into me like I’m their whole world, bills I can’t pay, a future that feels like it’s dissolving in this same hot water.

I’m so tired of pretending I’m strong enough to carry it all.

The one person I thought was forever. The one I let all the way in, who I believed would stay through the cancer, the breakdowns, the ugly parts.

He’s gone. Not even pretending to care anymore. Just… absent. Like I was never the love of his life, like none of it mattered.

That betrayal sits heavier than the water right now. I loved so loud for someone who never loved me back the same. And now I’m here alone with the echo.

I can’t do it anymore.

I don’t want to.

The thought of waking up tomorrow and doing another round of this.. smiling for the kids, posting something hopeful online, pretending I’m not drowning.. makes me want to disappear tonight instead.

Just let go.

It would be peaceful. It would be over.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep choosing to stay when every part of me is begging to leave.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I’m just done.

Completely fucking done.

They’ve upped my depression meds three times and none of it touches this. The cloud is thicker than ever, heavy and suffocating, pressing down until I can barely breathe.

I drag myself through the hours like a ghost in my own life. Numb, hollow, pointless.

Every attempt to push through just sinks me deeper. I don’t even want to fight it anymore.

I just want to disappear.

Not in some poetic way. Really disappear. Fade into nothing so this endless ache finally stops.

The cancer’s gone but the rot it left behind is still eating me alive. The betrayal, the nights I can’t sleep, the flashbacks that make me want to claw my own skin off again.

I stopped eating. I barely move. I sit here staring at walls while the hours bleed away, wondering why I even bother waking up.

I’m so tired of pretending there’s light at the end of this. There isn’t. There’s just more gray, more pain, more days where I feel like a burden that should’ve been erased a long time ago.

Sometimes the urge to vanish is so strong it’s almost comforting. Pack nothing. Leave everything. Walk until the world forgets I existed.

No more meds that don’t work. No more nights replaying how he lied and left. No more waking up disappointed that I’m still here.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep breathing through this.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I don’t know why I’m writing this tonight. Maybe because the nightmares have come back stronger than ever, or maybe because I finally heard the full story last weekend and it cracked something open inside me that I thought had healed. Or at least scarred over.

It’s been years, and I still can’t walk into my old apartment building without my stomach dropping. I left that place as soon as I could, but the memories don’t care about new addresses.

That night started so normally. I’d had a long week at work and just wanted to unwind.

A couple of friends were supposed to come over for drinks, nothing crazy, just catching up. I remember having a Smirnoff Ice while I waited.

The bottle was already open on the counter; one of them must have started it when they arrived early. I didn’t think twice. I trusted them.

The first sip tasted a little off, slightly bitter, but I chalked it up to a cheap bottle. By the second glass, the room was tilting. My limbs felt heavy, like they belonged to someone else. I tried to stand up to get water, but my legs buckled. I remember laughing nervously, saying something like “Wow, I must be more tired than I thought.” Then the lights went fuzzy. Voices.. familiar voices. Sounded distant, laughing, overlapping.

Hands on my shoulders guiding me toward the couch. I tried to speak, but my tongue was thick and useless.

Everything after that is a black hole.

I woke up on the floor sometime before dawn. The apartment was dead quiet except for the hum of the fridge and my own ragged breathing.

At first I thought I’d just passed out from drinking too much. My head was pounding, my mouth dry as sandpaper. But when I tried to move, a sharp, tearing pain shot through my lower body.. like someone had taken sandpaper to my insides. I gasped and curled into myself, hands instinctively pressing between my legs. They came away sticky, slick with something that wasn’t just sweat.

I lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had happened.

My clothes were half-on, twisted and torn in places. There were bruises blooming on my thighs, fingerprints pressed into my hips like dark signatures.

My neck hurt. My wrists felt raw. The worst part was the deep, throbbing ache inside me, a violation that went beyond skin. My body knew even when my mind was still catching up.

It felt used.

Broken.

Like something sacred had been ripped out and discarded on the carpet beside me.

I crawled to the bathroom on my hands and knees because standing made the pain worse.

In the mirror I barely recognized myself.. mascara streaked down my cheeks, lips swollen, hair matted.

I sat in the shower until the water ran cold, scrubbing until my skin was raw, but I couldn’t wash away the feeling.

The shame came in waves.

Why didn’t I fight harder?

Why did I let them in?

Why didn’t I notice the taste in the Vodka?

Stupid, stupid questions that still haunt me.

I never reported it.

I doubted my own memory for years. The blackouts, the missing time.. it was easier to believe I’d just embarrassed myself than to accept that people I considered close could do something so monstrous.

Someone brought up bad dating stories, and I made a vague comment about a “really rough night years ago.”

My blood turned to ice.

I excused myself to the bathroom and threw up until there was nothing left. Then I cried so hard I thought I’d crack a rib.

Coming home that night, the old trauma felt brand new. I lay in bed feeling phantom hands on me again.

The soreness between my legs, the bruises I couldn’t explain, the way I couldn’t sit comfortably for days afterward.

The constant fear that someone would find out and judge me.

I’ve built a life far away from those people. I have boundaries now that are ironclad. I listen to my gut. I protect myself in ways I never did before.

The trauma lives in my body, but it doesn’t own me anymore. Not completely. Nights like tonight it roars back, loud and vicious, demanding to be witnessed. So here it is. The full, ugly truth I was never supposed to know.

I woke up violated in my own apartment.

I carried that pain alone for years.

And now I know exactly who did it.

[sxdgirldiaries]

The house is quiet now, but my heart is still hammering like it’s trying to break out of my chest.

Someone I care about raised their voice at me earlier, not even that loud in the grand scheme of things..

And in an instant I wasn’t here anymore. I was back there. Back in that nightmare that lasted four and a half years.

It’s like my brain has a hair-trigger alarm wired straight to those memories. One sharp tone, one angry edge in a voice, and suddenly I’m small again.

I can feel the way my shoulders automatically hunch, the way my breath catches, the way my mind starts cataloging escape routes even though I’m safe now.

Or at least I’m supposed to be safe.

I thought I had buried it deeper than this. I really did. But trauma doesn’t stay buried; it waits. It waits for the smallest crack in the armor and then it floods everything.

I remember the fear that lived in that house like a second resident. The constant walking on eggshells, trying to predict what would set him off. The way love and terror got braided together so tightly I couldn’t tell which was which anymore.

He raped me so many times that my body stopped feeling like mine. I would dissociate, floating somewhere above the scene, watching it happen to someone who looked like me but couldn’t possibly be me because how could anyone survive that?

And then there was the night he pushed me down the stairs.

I was pregnant. Not very far along, around 20 weeks. I had felt that tiny spark of life inside me and for the first time in years I had something to hold onto that was pure. Something that hadn’t been poisoned by him yet.

I don’t even remember what the argument was about anymore. Something stupid. Something that didn’t matter. But he was screaming and I tried to get away and his hands were on me and then I was falling.

The pain was unreal.

The sound my body made hitting each step is still in my ears sometimes when it’s too quiet. And then the bleeding. The terrible, cramping knowledge that the baby was gone. That he had taken that from me too.

I lay there at the bottom of the stairs thinking this was finally it.. he was going to kill me and maybe that would be a mercy. But he didn’t. He just stood at the top looking down at me like I was something disgusting he’d stepped in.

I was rushed to the hospital.. my sweet, innocent baby boy had Hydrocephalus, and they wanted me to give birth as soon as possible. So I did.

Here i am, at Mount Sinai Hospital. I laid in that bed for 3 days waiting.. waiting for him to be born.

March 4th, 2009. My baby boy, Gavyn Rayne Heaton was born. Weighting 2lbs, 8oz. He was a stillborn. I didnt get to hear his innocent cry. Didn't get to feel his soft skin. My hello, was also my goodbye.

I don’t know how I survived the rest of that relationship. I don’t know how I found the strength to leave. But one day I did. I got out. I ran with nothing but the clothes on my back and the shattered pieces of who I used to be.

The first weeks after were surreal. I was free, but I didn’t feel free. I was confused all the time. My nervous system was stuck in fight-or-flight.

I would cry at the drop of a hat.. grocery stores, red lights, the sound of a door closing too hard. I was terrified of everyone and everything. I still am, sometimes.

The hypervigilance never fully went away. I scan rooms. I read tones. I brace for impact even when there is no impact coming.

Tonight proved that.

Someone I care about. Smeone who has never hurt me like that.. yelled in frustration, and my body reacted like I was about to die.

Ye, it was through a text. But it still hurt. I wanted to shrink into the floor. I wanted to apologize for existing. I wanted to run.

Instead I just stood there frozen while the memories played on loop: the stairs, the blood, the hands that were supposed to protect me but only ever destroyed.

I’m not okay.

I’m not okay and I hate admitting that because I’ve worked so hard. I’ve been in therapy. I’ve journaled. I’ve tried to build a new life. But some wounds are so deep they echo forever.

The loss of the baby still aches in a place I can’t reach. The rapes left scars on my soul that no one can see. The almost-murder lives in my startle response and my nightmares.

I cry as I write this because I’m exhausted from carrying it. I cry because I miss the version of me that existed before him.

The one who laughed easily and trusted people and didn’t flinch at loud voices. I cry because I’m angry that he still gets to live rent-free in my head after all this time.

I cry because someone I care about is probably confused or hurt by my reaction and I don’t know how to explain that it’s not about them.

It’s about the ghost of a man who almost ended me.

But I’m still here.

I got out.

I survived the stairs.

I survived the loss.

I survived being choked, till almost passing out.

I survived the fear and the shame and the nights I wanted to disappear.

That has to count for something.

Maybe tonight I’ll let myself feel it all without trying to fix it. Maybe I’ll just sit with the grief and the rage and the fear until they get tired of screaming at me.

Tomorrow I’ll try again. I’ll remind myself that not every raised voice is a death sentence.

I’ll breathe through the flashbacks.

I’ll reach out for support instead of isolating. I’ll keep choosing life even when it hurts like hell.

I’m not okay yet.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I’m not the girl for everyone.

I’ve accepted that now. Most people want something easy, something polished and predictable. But I’m none of those things. I’m different in all the ways that scare people away… and I’m tired of pretending otherwise.

I’m addicted to tattoos. The needle, the sting, the way ink sinks into my skin and makes me feel a little more permanent when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

Every new piece is another chapter I’m claiming, another story I refuse to let fade.

My body’s becoming a canvas I can’t stop adding to, even when the money’s tight and the healing hurts. It’s messy, impulsive, and mine.

I’m mentally unstable.

Some days I’m up, laughing with my little crew, cuddling my fur babies like the world is soft and kind. Other days the darkness hits so hard I can barely breathe.

The anxiety, the panic that comes out of nowhere, the way my mind spirals until I feel like I’m drowning in my own thoughts.

I’m working on it, fighting like hell, but it’s still here. I’m still here.

And my memory?

God, it’s the worst. I forget plans, names, entire conversations. I’ll walk into a room and stand there blinking, trying to remember why I’m even there. It makes me feel unreliable, scattered, like I’m always letting people down without meaning to.

But despite all of it… if you’re the one I want, I’ll prove it every single day. I’ll fight through the fog in my head, through the mood swings and the blank spaces in my memory.

I’ll show up even when my body aches and my mind is screaming at me to hide. I’ll choose you over and over again, even on the days I barely know how to choose myself.

You’d be all I need.

All I want.

I’d pour every chaotic, tattooed, unstable piece of me into loving you right. I’d remember the important things.. the way you look at me, the way you make the noise in my head quiet down, the way being with you feels like the first real breath I’ve taken in years.

I know I’m a lot. I know I’m not easy. But for the right person… I’d be everything. I’d prove it a thousand times, in a thousand imperfect ways.

Just don’t give up on the girl who’s still learning how to stay.

I’m trying. For you, I’d try forever.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I’m way too easy to lie to. My heart just opens wide, believes every word, every promise… and then it all crashes down.

The betrayal hits different when you realize you were never truly seen. It hurts like hell.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I’ve slipped back into the old shadows again, letting them wrap around me like a familiar, suffocating blanket.

Starving myself feels easier than facing the emptiness, my body running on fumes just to punish the ache that won’t leave.

Sleep has become a stranger.. nights blur into endless hours of staring at the ceiling, replaying everything until exhaustion finally drags me under for a few fitful moments.

And the self-harm… it’s crept back in, sharp and quiet, because right now I don’t have a single reason strong enough to stop.

The fight feels too heavy, the reasons to keep going too far away. I’m just here, unraveling in the dark.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I keep thinking about it lately. If I died tomorrow, you wouldn’t miss me. You wouldn’t even notice I was gone, would you?

The thought sits heavy in my chest tonight. I’m lying here in the dark, replaying everything, and it just feels so fucking pointless.

I’m alone.

Completely alone.

Fighting this heartbreak that won’t let go and this depression that keeps pulling me under like quicksand.

You left when I needed you most. When everything was falling apart and I was barely holding on, you just… walked away.

No real fight.

No real care.

Like I was something you could discard when it got too heavy. And the worst part? You didn’t even seem to feel bad about it.

You moved on so easily, while I’m still here drowning in the wreckage you left behind.

I gave you everything.

My trust, my time, my heart when it was already bruised. And for what? So I could end up here — whispering into the void, wondering if anyone would even care if I disappeared.

I’m so tired of pretending I’m okay. Tired of carrying this weight by myself. The loneliness is loud. It echoes in every quiet moment, in every notification that isn’t from you, in every night I cry and no one knows.

You said you cared. You said a lot of things. But actions show the truth, don’t they? And your truth was that I wasn’t worth staying for.

I wasn’t worth fighting for.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this pain. I just know I’m exhausted from holding it alone.

Maybe one day it won’t hurt this much.

[sxdgirldiaries]

Tonight my heart feels so full it could burst, but there's this quiet ache underneath it all.

He doesn't truly understand how much I love him. I don't know if anyone could, because the depth of it scares even me sometimes.

It's not just butterflies or sweet words, it's this bone-deep need to be the one who makes him happy.

To stand by his side through every high and every low, no matter what comes.

I want to be his safe place, his biggest supporter, the person he turns to when the world feels heavy.

In my eyes, he's so absolutely perfect. I wouldn't change a single thing about him. Not his laugh, not the way his mind works, not even the little quirks that drive other people crazy.

He's everything I've ever wanted and more. He's my soulmate. I feel it in every part of me. I just hope... I hope I'm his too. But I don't think I'll ever truly know for sure, and that uncertainty keeps me up at night.

I can't wait to be in his arms. To look him straight in the eyes, no walls, no distance, and finally tell him how much I love him, raw, unfiltered, with my whole heart.

I hope he loves me even half as much as I love him. If he does, I think I could face anything.

But if I were to lose him... I don't even want to imagine it. I'd be so done with the world. Everything would feel empty, colorless.

He's become such a huge part of my heart that the thought of him not being there leaves me breathless in the worst way.

For now, I'll hold onto the hope. I'll keep loving him this fiercely, even if it's from afar. He deserves that kind of love, the kind that doesn't ask for anything back, even when I secretly pray he feels it too.

I love him so much it hurts.

[sxdgirldiaries]

It’s been a month since the surgery. The hysterectomy. They took everything out to get rid of the cancer, and I guess I should feel grateful that it’s gone.

Cancer is terrifying.

The appointments, the waiting, the fear that it might come back… it all still sits in my chest like a stone. But somehow, that part doesn’t even hurt the most right now.

What’s destroying me is him. The person I thought loved me. The one I leaned on when I was scared and sick and losing pieces of myself.

Turns out it was all a lie.

He played me.

Fed me pretty words while I was at my weakest, then showed me I was never actually loved or cared for.

Just convenient. Just something to pass the time. I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out how I missed the signs, how I let myself believe I was safe with him.

Losing him.. or rather, realizing I never really had him.. feels harder than the cancer ever did.

At least with cancer there was a plan, there were doctors, there was something to fight. This? This is just emptiness.

Since everything happened, I’ve been drowning. The depression is so loud. I started self-harming again. I hate that I did, but in the moment it felt like the only way to let some of this pain out.

I’ve barely eaten anything real in days. Food tastes like nothing and my stomach is in knots anyway.

Sleep? I can’t remember the last time I had a full night. I cry until my eyes burn and my head pounds, then I just lie there staring at the wall.

I haven’t slept in my bed in weeks. It feels too big, too empty, too much like a place where I used to feel safe.

I fall asleep on the couch with the TV on just so I don’t feel completely alone with my thoughts.

I’m not taking care of myself. Getting dressed is a win. I know I should be gentle with my body after everything it’s been through, but I just… can’t. I feel disconnected from it. Like it’s not even mine anymore.

I’m struggling.

Really struggling.

Some mornings I wake up and the weight of it all makes me want to disappear. I don’t know how to climb out of this hole.

I don’t know if I even have the energy to try right now.

[sxdgirldiaries]

I don’t understand why it has to be me sitting here like this.

Why am I the one who can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t stop the ache in my chest that feels like it’s actually cracking my ribs open?

Why am I the one replaying every memory, every promise, every little moment like a sick loop in my head, while he’s out there… slutting it up online?

Flirting with everyone. Laughing in comments, sliding into DMs, posting like we meant nothing.

I feel like I’m dying inside. Some days I actually want to. The thoughts get so loud and dark and I have to physically stop myself from spiraling completely.

I keep wondering what’s wrong with me that I can’t just switch it off like he did.

Why does my heart still belong to someone who clearly never guarded mine the way I guarded his?

He’s moving on like I was a chapter, a phase, a temporary distraction. Like I was never that important.

Like all the nights I stayed up for him, all the ways I showed up, all the love I poured out… it was disposable. And the worst part?

He doesn’t even seem to feel guilty. No second thoughts. Just new girls, new attention, new ego boosts.

I hate that I’m still here carrying all this pain alone. I hate that my body feels heavy with grief while his seems light and free. I hate that I gave someone the power to make me question my entire worth.

Why do I get to be the one breaking?

Why does he get to be the one who’s fine?

I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could look at his new life and feel nothing.

But I do care. And I feel everything.

[sxdgirldiaries]

The urge is back, stronger than ever. Not just to log off for a weekend or do one of those pathetic “digital detox” things people post about.

No.

The real urge.

Delete every single one. Block everyone. Change my number. Pack a bag, get in the car, and vanish into the void.

No goodbye posts. No cryptic stories. No “if you’re reading this…” explanations.

Just… poof.

Gone.

It hits me at the strangest times. I’ll be scrolling through my feed at 2 a.m, and suddenly I feel this wave of pure exhaustion.

Not sleepy exhaustion.

Soul exhaustion.

That girl on the screen isn’t even me anymore. She’s a mosaic of what I think people want to see.

The adventurous one.

The deep one.

The one who always has her shit together even when she’s falling apart behind the scenes.

I keep thinking about how freeing it would feel to let that version die quietly.

No funeral.

No eulogy.

Just deletion.

What would it be like to wake up tomorrow and have no one able to find me?

No endless notifications demanding my attention. No pressure to respond to “how are you?” texts that people don’t actually want the real answer to.

I could drive out of this city with the windows down and the music loud and not worry about someone tagging me in a story or asking where I disappeared to.

The thought makes my chest feel lighter already. Like I’ve been carrying around hundreds of invisible threads connecting me to everyone I’ve ever met online, and I just want to take a pair of scissors and snip them all at once.

I keep imagining the moment after. The quiet. Real quiet. Not the fake quiet where I’m still checking my phone every five minutes.

Actual silence.

Why do I owe everyone access to me 24/7?

When did that become the expectation?

I didn’t sign up for constant availability. I didn’t agree to broadcast my life like some never-ending reality show.

If I disappeared, people would eventually stop looking. New people would never know I existed.

I’m not important. I’m just… here.

The void is calling. And for the first time in a long time, I really want to answer.

[sxdgirldiaries]

Sometimes it scares me how deeply I feel for him. Like every part of me is tuned to him. I think about him constantly, and when I do, there’s this warm ache in my chest that won’t go away.

I wish he could see inside my heart for just one minute. I don’t think he fully understands how much he means to me, how much space he takes up in my soul.

But with all this love comes this fear I can’t shake. I’m terrified. Terrified that he has someone else, or that one day he’ll find someone better. Someone closer, someone easier.

Long distance relationships are not for the weak, and I’m starting to realize just how true that is.

The miles between us feel heavier some days. They make my mind spiral. What if he’s laughing with another girl right now? What if I’m not enough from this far away?

I miss him in ways words can’t touch. I want to hear his voice so badly.. that low, calm way he talks that makes everything feel okay.

I want to feel his arms around me, his hand in mine, his warmth against my skin. I want the kind of closeness that makes the rest of the world disappear.

Just one night where I can fall asleep next to him instead of reaching for my phone hoping he texted goodnight.

I know I have to trust him. I know I have to trust us. But tonight I’m just sitting here with all this love and all this fear tangled up inside me.

I hope he feels even a fraction of what I feel. I hope he knows I’d choose him every single day, no matter how hard the distance gets.

I love you. I really, really love you.