Sometimes I wish I wasn't right and this was all some bullshit nightmare. It always blows up, it always causes damage. And they forget. And they bottle up and take out on me on any chance, and it's actually better that they take it out on me, that way my young brother can be spared. But this shit gets burned in my brain, this shit gets stored inside me like a fucking disease, and the only one to suffer the consequences of THEIR actions... It's me. Because they forget, they brush off, they can't remember the hurtful words they say after the alcohol, they can't remember the gaslighting, the guilt trip, the accusations, the blame that they put on me, I grew up with the guilt for everything. It's actually surprising I haven't gone batshit crazy after everything I've been through, not only with them, but with other people too.
But you know what hurts like shit? I only noticed all this fucked up bullshit when I was forced to think WHY Harley Quinn was my favorite character from DC. And it wasn't because she is cool and a badass. It was because I related to her, it was because I could feel on my skin all the hell she've been put through, I could feel how much she HATED the Joker, but couldn't escape, she wasn't able to run. And I loved her because eventually she got away, eventually someone realised how utterly FUCKED UP was the whole thing with Joker, and decided to write about her, and decided to tell how it was, and decided to give her someone that actually CARES for her. And this thing... It gave me hope, and it kept me going for YEARS, because every fucking day I wanted to escape this hell hole, every fucking day I wanted to run away from it all, to run away from THEM, from my own parents, but to run away from the others as well... Because it's really hard to grow up in abusive situations without having it engraved in you: this is normal. So you gravitate towards these situations, because it's all you've ever known, and this is your normal, fucked up as it is. And it looks like the bad people know this, so they gravitate to you as well. And untill you FINALLY realize that this is all a messy, FUCKED UP LIE, oh well my dear, you've already walked through hell and back, and this fucking bleeding wound might be your last straw. Like it almost was for me.
I talk, and I talk, and I talk. I put things on the reasons to stay alive tag every fucking day, and yeah, it's cool, I am helping people, I can be the hand that I didn't have, I can give someone a little hope everyday. But the truth is that I only have this tag because I've almost killed myself some many times, I've battled every single time, to drop the knife, the blade or whatever, before I hit something vital, before I started bleeding to death, before I actually went through with what my head kept yelling at me, or before dissociation took me away for long enough to go through. And the little control I had only gave me this much, it was only enough to stop me, and then I usually ended up in a mixed state of laughing and crying -and maybe that's another point I can relate to Harley, I know what is like to laugh out of sheer pain and desperation.
And now here I am, filled to the edge with pent up anger for what they did to me, and I FUCKING HATE MYSELF. Because I don't want to lash out, I don't want to cause pain, I don't want to break things and I don't want revenge. FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I JUST WANNA GET OUT! And this sorry excuse of a text is only because I can't scream, this whole shit is only because I don't wanna wallow in self pity for my past. And yes, this shit doesn't have a "message", it has actually nothing for you to read here, I don't even know exactly why I wrote it, I think I just wrote it to talk about traumas, because look at this whole shit. So if you were looking for a positive message, come back tomorrow, for now I'm too busy sulking. Sue me.