Trigger Warning: Self-Harm and Suicide
If you were to ask me why I've spent the majority of my life being so nonchalant toward men with the exception of a couple undeserving souls, I could offer you a plentiful list.
Nothing, however, and I do mean NOTHING, takes the cake over learning today that a nigga who tried to get in my pants in high school lied about his mom dying. I'm genuinely gagged---not because the attempt worked but because WHO goes to that length to get laid?
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I wrote the above portion a couple weeks ago. The past couple of days is what really takes the cake over some garbage from high school. Here I am yet again looking at a motherf*cker I know shouldn't be in my life. It's not like I'm not willing to leave; he isn't. It complicates things because I technically can't force him to go, but I also dread the idea I've been coerced out of my own safe space. Home doesn't feel like home because it isn't.
I haven't cut myself in years, and then boom. There I was just needing to escape being screamed at for this or for that. I can't keep up anymore. The overarching theme is always that I deserve it, that it's my fault. Talking too much or showing emotions or rejecting things that harm me means I deserve yelling and discord and violence.
Evidently, I still haven't learned the place my father tried his best to show me with his own violence.
What's sad is that when I am willing to play the role--to be the miserable, self-loathing, thoughtless and speechless person that doesn't "deserve" violence---that's also not good enough because then I'm "overexaggerating" and things are still---you guessed it---my fault. I'm "causing my own pain" just by existing, which means they're basically telling me I only exist to endure pain.
The expectation for me to be without reasonable boundaries is the reason I am so enraged. At every interval of my life, there are people who believe I'm supposed to let them trample over me simply because I exist, and there's something they don't like about it. I'm supposed to allow shallow relationships, unhealthy job environments, and familial drama. I'm supposed to be screamed at, accused, betrayed and never fight back. I'm supposed to die. They want me to die, and I guess it's not happening quickly enough. I genuinely believe most of the people I've ever known would be indifferent or relieved to learn of my Earthly absence.
No one loves me, and I'm not allowed to cry about it, talk about it, think about it, or even feel it. This is the only place I can come to, and it's not even a place.
