For You

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This are the personal traumatic events that have happened in my life thus far - the raw stuff in detail. This is for the people that feel alone and need a little guidance. Please share with anyone you know that may need this.

Submitted: December 03, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 03, 2016




For anyone out there that has been through a traumatic event, this one is for you


If there is one thing I’ve learned in this lifetime, it is that life stops for no one. No matter how famous, how rich, how brilliant, how talented you are… you are just another human in this cold, cold world. Sometimes I confuse reality with dreams. Sometimes even with nightmares. Sometimes the flashbacks are too real to handle and I find myself freezing in time, helpless—haunted. And in that moment, I am taken back to re-live my mistakes. I picture how I look to others and that is the last thing I remember thinking about. Then when I come back into my body, it is as if my soul was tortured—beaten. I’ve never been one to think that everyone’s story has to be non-fictionally rough because God is not that cruel. Although, I wonder how some have not lost faith, hope. I know I have. Sometimes I feel like I am living a non-fiction story. I have created my own battles to challenge myself—to challenge God. I am my own devil.


I find myself questioning this part of my life. I question if there is a devil inside me when all I can do is smile looking back at this flashback. One hundred and sixty. One hundred and sixty pills. I survived selfishness. Where did I go right? Numbness is my other half. I feel nothing all the time. The thing about being numb is that you feel neither good or bad and that is the true battle. Imprisonment within yourself. Trapped. Alone by choice. Question after question. Excuse after excuse. There is never a definite answer. Suicide is bold. It is strong, yet so weak. I hold hatred deep in my heart for those have survived. Those like me. Those who gave up but have been given a second chance. What happened to those who succeeded? Why didn’t they fail like the rest of us? Attempting suicide is suicide. If you want to die, you should be allowed to do so. The funny thing they do not realize is that once an attempt has been made, you are already dead. Saving us only hurts us more. We cannot be saved by others. We have to save ourselves. Fix our own messes. If it consumes us, let it be before you get hurt. We feed off our own pain like cocaine. If we self destruct, we have succeeded—we have failed.


The front door. That damn front door. I have based a lot of the person that I am today off of the front door I had to stare at for hours. Hour after hour. Tear after tear I examined the front door. The walls around it. The color of the walls. The design. The clock above it. The knob. The lock that entrapped me. Entrapped me as I laid there while he touched me. While he got off on me—a fifth grader. I remember vivid-blurred images. Loud silence. Silence while I laid there thinking about how much of a coward I was. Silence while his sister was sleeping five inches from me, us. I should have screamed. I should have ran. I should have done something to stop it. Stop him from hurting me. If I had known how much of an impact he would make on my life, I would have killed him. I prayed. Prayed that I would forgive my enemies so he could forgive himself. He is now a priest. He is now in your hands. He is now in God’s hands.


Love is the ultimate heartbreaker. It makes you vulnerable—powerless. I have never been so in love. I have never felt so alone. I have never felt so susceptible to constant abuse. Damage. I look at him and feel pain. Somewhere along the line I lost myself. I can no longer identify with the person in the mirror. My energy, all of it, has been devoted to someone else and in that I have found immense disgust. I am stuck. And again, it is self-inflicted. He is my false picture of happiness that I use to distract the rest of the world from seeing the real one. Every single “I love you” is loveless. I have quickly learned to accept that everything I do is wrong in his eyes. He takes only pity on me. Puts even enemies before me and never forgets that it is the exact opposite in my heart. Always needs to be high around me to deal making me feel like a worthless piece of shit. I tell myself that I deserve so much more and he comes in silent and knocks it out of my head. He is my everything. I am his burden.


A friend once told me “having your own voice is the most beautiful thing,” and then ripped my voice with her cold-blooded hands. Notice, I used the word “friend.” I no longer have enemies because I believe people need to ask for their own forgiveness. I walked by a group of 10 people each day. 10 people that I once considered family. 10 people that had nothing else to talk about but me. 10 people that teamed up to make my last 6 months of high school the hardest 6 months of my life. The loneliest 6 months of my life. Not even able to attend classes due to constant public humiliation, I spent my last 6 months of senior year in the counseling office on independent study because my advisors had sympathy for me and my situation(s). I was “that girl.” The girl that once had it all: an executive position, an all-star boyfriend, a famous best friend, and “love” from those 10 people. I had nothing.


I remember everything. Sitting in a cold, cold, waiting room for two hours thinking. Watching women, girls, come in and out of the door. Watching security guards walk back and forth. Watching men watch. How did I become so hypocritical? I thought about it all. How? Why? Where? When? How can I go through with this? Why didn’t I just say no? When is this going to end? Thinking, thinking, thinking. How did three months pass so fast? I disconnected myself from the world that day. I disconnected myself from myself that day. My name was called. I couldn’t look at him. I got up as if I had any dignity at all. My body walked through the door but my mind was sprinting the other way. I sat down and gave away all my information wanting to get up and walk right out crying. Instead, I stayed torturing myself. I answered every single question and then stepped on the scale. I followed her to another waiting room where I stared at the same girls I saw in the first room. I looked at each of their facial expressions asking myself if I should adjust mine to match theirs. I questioned if I should cry. I questioned if I should talk to one of them. I questioned if I should walk out and who would follow me. I questioned if they were being pressured into it. I questioned if that is what they wanted. I questioned if that is what I wanted. I watched each person get called to the back and then sent to sit and wait again until I got the system and the order figuring out that I was the last one. It was simple. First the second waiting room, then the ultrasound, then the waiting room, then the blood sample, then the waiting room, then the dressing room, then the operating room. I figured, I have all these chances to say no more and leave. But I didn’t. My name was called for the ultrasound. She took my arm in hers as if we were going to Disneyland and told me “don’t be scared.” I undressed from the bottom down, let her stick the lubricated stick into me. She made sarcastic, rude comments and talked to me like I was stupid. She didn’t wait for me afterward. She sent me back to the cold waiting room. An hour later I was called again to take my blood. I couldn’t stop crying. I was in so much pain, and not from the needles. That woman said “it won’t hurt. Don’t be a cry baby.” I went to the bathroom in tears. I looked in the mirror and my heart broke into pieces. I saw a cold-hearted person. A selfish person. A person that was no longer welcomed into heaven. I felt alone. I was alone. I slowly walked back to the waiting room and waited to strip into a dirty gown. I put my things in a locker and stared at the clock. Stared at the bare walls. Stared at the door that would change my life forever. It seemed like the temperature was decreasing with every room I entered. I watched the girl before me go into the room and prayed that something interrupted my entrance. My mind was consuming me. Then my name was called one last time. I walked into the operating room shaking of anxiety. There were three of them. Two men- one black, one white, and a white old woman that looked like the lady off of the movie Devil. The white one said “ah, the last one. We get to go home after this one. You’re the scaredy cat of the day.” I wanted to kill him. I had so much hatred for all four of us. They put me on the table and I screamed to get out resisting the needle. They pulled my legs apart and put them up on the straps. They strapped my arms to the metal table and injected it into me. Then I awoke. I awoke on a bed next to the older woman I had seen all day, the one before me. I had to shit. I was numb in every nerve of my body. I told her to get me up or else I would shit on her bed. She walked me to the bathroom. They made a panty out of pads and string and put it on me. I was disgusted and bleeding all over the place. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Neither would come out. I came out of the bathroom, took a pill, then walked to get my stuff. I talked to the counselor and got my prescription. I put my clothes back on and realized it was gone. It was just me again and that was the saddest moment I have ever faced. I walked outside to him and they locked the doors behind me. All I wanted was to go back in time to the first waiting room and tell myself to walk out while I could. I felt violated, disrespected, put down, and tortured. Then I faced the second saddest moment- I realized it was self-inflicted. That day replays in my head detail after detail daily. One day it will consume me. One day I will truly pay for that decision. It’ll be the last one. It’ll be the death of me.


Don’t make the mistake of being like me. Don’t let this be your life. Don’t let this consume you. You are worth it. You are so much better than this. Don’t allow anyone to break you. You are going to be just fine. You are going to do better. Be strong. Be safe. Be wise. Be a good person. Be yourself. Love yourself. Love others (wisely). Be patient. Be honest. Be better. Your best is always good enough. This one is for you. 

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