Haunting Lavenders @willbenice2 - Tumblr Blog

boże zobaczcie co mi się na fb wyświetliło xdd

I used to know who I was even if I was sad. I had a style to express my pain, I created art from my misery and it was so easy to be the martyr and dissociate while I was abused every possible way, as it was familiar.

I knew how to act as I didn't have a choice over my actions. I was only a toy. Sometimes I felt that I might have liked it because I always ran back to my abusers. This was the only way I knew, I wasn't able to function by myself. This always disturbs my mind. It drives me crazy. My true feelings were drifting away from me, through my self-inflicted cuts. So how should I know what I was feeling, truly, deeply?

Everything is strange, even when I'm happy, I feel guilty. No one feels sorry for me. Not that they should anymore. A different kind of monster is chasing me: the urge to forget. But if I forget who I was, how should I know who I should be? The worst thing is that it doesn't even matter. I'm slowly transforming into nothingness. Like I was nothing all along.

I was fighting so hard for my freedom only to realise that I did deserve the way I was treated because at least I was useful as a punching bag.

Now I'm unstable, I was the ice now I'm the fire. I wasn't able to feel the pain, I was frozen and stuck. Now I'm feeling everything at once, I'm burning alive, and I burn down everything I have. I pour alcohol in my wounds and I lick my tears from my scars. This is the adulthood for someone who was never a child.