i can’t make anyone love me, if they don’t; just turn down these voices inside my head.
once again it’s nearing four am and i’m up, praying i had a zoloft or xanax or even a fucking valium just to get myself to stop thinking for a second.
my life comes and goes in cycles. cycles of pure bliss followed by extreme depression. cycles of pulling my life back together just to have things fall apart all over again. cycles of true companionship followed by times of feeling the loneliest i’ve ever felt. cycles of near forgetting followed by being completely devoured by my emotions.
i never knew sexual assault was one of those “he-who-must-not-be-named” kind of topics that everyone tiptoes around, trying to avoid completely. sure, no one is my therapist, but i listen to everyone else’s shit all the time. (i’m just saying this now; i’m sure tomorrow i’ll get back to not wanting to talk about it. it’s the cycles)
i just realized that it happened more than a year ago. i’m not sure if i’m supposed to have any sort of “thank god i’ve survived a year” celebration or ceremonial burning of anything, but either way… i didn’t even remember on the day. i’m really, really thankful for that.
i still think about it. everyday. every. single. day. it’s just one of those things. sometimes it’s just something that happened to me and sometimes it’s something that i let consume my soul.
i wrecked my car. i wrecked my car on the one year anniversary (if it even deserves that title) of my sexual assault. “one year” never even crossed my mind.
i don’t know what the original point of typing this was, but maybe if i keep typing, i’ll figure it out.
alot of my personality has changed. i used to never let anything stand in the way of a man loving me. whether it be for forty-five minutes, the night, or for what i imagined to be the rest of my life. i’ve now developed a habit of throwing everything in the way. doing everything in my power to stand in between whoever he may be, myself, and love. barriers make you lonely and self conscience. low self esteem may have been my problem before, but this lack of allowing myself to be reassured is just making it worse. i don’t know what depression truly means and i absolutely despise clinical psychology, but i think i might be pushing some boundaries.
i’ve given up many of the things i love. reading because it gives me too much time to think. plus, it’s incredibly difficult to focus on anything. writing because at times like this it’s just me digging my hole deeper. i don’t know who i’ve become or when it happened, but no one really seems to notice. oh yeah, that’s because i’ve distanced myself from anyone remotely important.
i don’t know what i’m doing with my life. i keep changing my mind about everything. do i even still want to be at school? who knows.
i’m going to wake up tomorrow afternoon feeling refreshed and with a new outlook on life. i just don’t get it.