Friendly Shadows

I hate the night. But I love it at the same time. Laying in bed, the busy road gone quite, crickets outside my window keeping me company. I see things at night. All of my demons come out to play. Sometimes so many they don't all fit in the room. But there's a bit of beauty to it that I don't always see. When the walls come down I'm alone with myself. I can feel everything I don't let myself feel. My sences become amplified. I want to cry. There is no reason for it, that I'm certain of. There is no depression lurking in the shadows of my mind tonight. Anxiety isn't at my throat, threatening to suffocate me. But I feel. I feel hands where they don't belong. But I hear. I hear harsh words being spoken, whispered, screamed into my ears. But I smell. I smell the blue axe body spray he used to wear. But I know. Everything in my head only serves as a reminder. None of it will be repeated. None of it can harm me. I find strength in the night because it reminds me of where I've come from, what I've endured and how much easier life will be from here on out and that's a thought I've never had before. I've always viewed my future to be better, different, but never easier. But it will be. Because my future gets to be what I want. That's it. Nothing else matters. And that's a beautiful thing. The night may haunt me, but it is my friend.

You Are Not What Happens To You.

Eight years ago today, I was sexually assaulted. I was taken advantage of by someone I thought I could trust. How silly of me. I was thirteen years old.
Seven years ago, I had my first flashback. I admitted to myself that it wasn't me, that it wasn't normal. What happened was real, and it is not OK. I diagnosed myself with PTSD and I told someone. I told a friend.
Four years ago, I uncovered my suppressed memories. I faced them head on and reopened all my closed wounds. I turned to my boyfriend at the time who turned out to be an abuser in his own way. He put me back together only to tear me open several times over.
Two years ago, I got drunk at a college party. A friend of a friend promised to take care of me. By that, he meant wait till I can't say no and take what no other girl would give him. He didn't get so lucky. I saw the signs and ran.
Six months ago, I realized every romantic relationship I've had has been wrong in some way. I used to believe there were things I was supposed to do in a relationship. Even if I felt uncomfortable I would tell myself that it's fine, I would get used to it. Everyone else did, right? Wrong. I always told myself that I could do much better than them, but I didn't want to. I didn't know what better could be. No one told me about the things I couldn't see.

Here I stand, eight years later, a fighter, a survivor, but not a victim. I have been though so much more than this one story. My scars run deeper than that one night on that one couch. My life is so much bigger than this story, this will not be what I am remembered for. 

This is how I will remind myself that I am more than a number, more than a story and more than a victim. In this life we choose. We decide who we are, how we live and maybe not what happens to us but we do decide how we recover, how we move on and who it makes us. 

This world is full of terrible things. There is no escaping it no matter how hard you try but I do not live in fear. 

Over the past eight years, I have overcome physical challenges and managed the pain, cast out my multiple abusers, lost countless friends and lost myself almost completely at times. Two weeks ago I graduated from college with a degree in engineering and vowed to start over. 

I am choosing to start over with a blank slate. Keeping in mind all that I've learned I will no longer let my past dictate my future. 

You are not what happens to you.

[Stark]

I'm in a place of such strength, but I don't feel strong at all. I feel lost. I feel pain. I feel longing and desire. I feel reckless and desperate. But I keep going. Every day I get up and I keep going and that's what makes me strong.
Over and over I choose people that aren't good for me. Over and over I self inflict pain. It's self inflicted because I know letting these people in is a bad move. I know they'll hurt me. But I do it anyway. I know I deserve better, but pain and suffering is what I know. It's familiar. It's comforting. So I don't blame myself. I know I'm responsible, but I don't regret my actions and I'm not angry at myself for feeling the way that I do. One day I'll find what's good for me. One day I'll find what's right for me. It all starts with getting away from here. Leaving everyone and everything I've ever known is the only shot I have at ever being truly happy. I am bitter and jaded and it's toxic for me to stay. There are people that I'll miss, but lately I've been questioning if they'd miss me at all. I feel very lonely these days and that's not unfamiliar to me. I'm angry with my so called friends that don't ever speak to me and I'm not sure why. It's the story of my life. I get left behind for one reason or another. Over and over again. And the time is about right. I'm about to graduate from college. Everything is about to change. Of course everyone is leaving me. The same  happened at the end of high school. But it's not because we're all going to different places. We all live in the area. They all hang out all the time. I'm just never invited. And I'm trying to be OK with that. Because if I'm not wanted, then I don't want to be there. I can make new friends. I'm starting a new job. I still have a few people that seem to have my back. But most importantly I still have my music. At the end of the day that's all that matters. That's all thats ever mattered.
I've been writing a lot. Like a shit ton. I haven't written this much since high school. But this new stuff, it has substance. It's matured. It has real meaning and feeling and emotion behind it. It's addicting. And it makes me think. I've been thinking a lot about what I've done, what I feel and what to do. It's making me stronger. Because I've decided I don't care anymore about what people have always told me and what I've always told myself. It's OK to feel heartbroken. It's OK to feel broken beyond repair. It's OK to feel like you're too damaged to ever be loved. Let those feelings out. Let them take form. Let them haunt you until you're ready to rid yourself of them. For me, let them keep me up at night until I can put them to song. Everything I think and feel has become fair game. No feelings are wrong. Anything that shows its face gets to ride itself out. There are no more rules. No more "don't do this to yourself" or "you shouldn't be feeling this way". Everything is real, everything is OK, everything will be good if I make it that way.
I have no one to talk to because right now I trust no one. And that's OK. I have my music and it speaks for itself. I'm to the point I don't explain my songs. If you hear the truth in the words I sing, good for you. If not, use your imagination, make something up. I write for me and me alone. Anything anyone else gets out of my music is their business. If it's nothing, its nothing. If its something, thats cool. But you don't need to know my personal story in order to feel something for yourself.

[Watch Me As I Disappear]

I'm not ready to put on a brave face
And show the world I'm OK
I'm useless, I'm empty
I'm so very far from OK
My stomach is growling
My fingers are throbbing
It makes me feel something
Because it's better than nothing
The one person that new
Shrugged it off and left
How can you save yourself
When letting go is all you know

Thanks For That

I've been abused my multiple people multiple ways. I'm no stranger to pain and I could be diagnosed with a number of mental instabilities. I constantly analyze myself and my behavior and my thoughts  and my actions and my impulses and nothing is safe. I've always assumed my self worth and self esteem issues were a result of being sexually assaulted at the age of 13. Or maybe the result of being raised by my emotionally and occasionally physically abusive alcoholic father. Chances are, both options are plausible. But tonight I realized another possible reason for why I am the way I am. My mother planted seeds in my head. When I was in middle school, she started planting seeds in my mind that there was stuff wrong with me. I had stretch marks. "You get those from gaining weight. You know those never go away." So I hide them. I started working out again. "Everyone has noticed the weight you've lost, you look good. But your legs still don't have any shape." So I never wore short shorts, only shorts that went to my knees. My mother has grown to be a very understanding and empowering woman since divorcing my father. Things were different before the separation though and I think she took her bitterness about life out on my sisters and I, though I'm not sure how they would feel about me saying that. I can't speak for them, all I know is I could've been treated better. It didn't help that I was bullied in middle school. It didn't help that I was never able to hold down a group of friends for more than a year or two. There was always some sort of falling out. I was always left behind. High school only got worse. And then I dated a guy seven years older than me. If that wasn't a cry for help, I don't know what is. But no one noticed. My parents never knew because I made it that way. All of my friends were indifferent. The ones that thought it was a bad idea kept their opinions to themselves until it was over. My insecurities stem from my abuse and were reinforced by being so alone for so long despite having people all around me. I've never had a solid place to go. I've grown accustomed to the feeling and can't imagine things ever changing. Right now, I'm ok with it. I can see myself in 5 years, happy on my own in some completely new place with new people but still on my own in the inside.

Wreckage

Nights like these kill me inside. My blood feels cold with every pump of my heart. My eyes beg to cry and my mind threatens to destroy me from the inside out. I will never get over you. I will always miss you. I will always want you back. I will always wonder if we can make things work even though I know it will never work. I'm sure you hate me these days. I wish I could say it was through no fault of my own, I know I fucked up. But I didn't deserve what you gave me. I didn't do what you think I did. I'm sure you've told people by now what you think I did. Part of me wonders what people think of me now, only I can't bring myself to care. It hurts that the false accusations now come from you though. This all started with you and I against the world, standing together to defy all the rumors and bullshit. Now you're the one slinging it. So I hurt. I deny it. I say I'm over it. I say I'm over you. It's all lies. I will never really move on from you. I hope I'm wrong in saying that, but right now I don't think I am. 

I can hear your voice tonight. I can remember words you said to me a million times. I can remember the desperation in our last first kiss, the night I made the first move, the first kiss we shared in a year. I don't believe I will ever feel that again. I don't think I would ever want to. People say that love hurts and if this is the pain they mean, I don't think I want this. I want to be naive again. Innocent. I want to rewind and make things happen the right way, and end things the right way. You've changed me in ways that can't be changed back. I will never be who I used to be because of you. I am angry because of this. Because you blame me for everything. I'm always the one doing something wrong or asking too much. I want what we had without the blame. Without the abuse. Because abuse is what it was. You know how I was raised. You know the abuse I've endured. The idea that you could do the same without even knowing makes me want to hate you. But I suppose that is partially my fault. I should've stood up for myself. I should've known better. But how should a love-struck, naive girl looking for a home know better? She has never seen better. She doesn't know there is better because it is the normal in her world. 

I know when Nick comes home there will be opportunities for us to be around each other. That's ok. And I promise I won't say a word to you. I won't look at you. I will act as though you are not there. Not because I'm afraid of you or because I'm ashamed after you but because I want nothing to do with you. I don't want to see you ever again. I never want to hear your voice again. I wish you could completely disappear. It is the only way I can see myself ever moving on. But I know that is impossible while we both still live here and have the same friends. But do me one favor because you owe me that much. Keep in mind they were my friends first. They were my friends first and they will stay loyal to me and I refuse to lose anything more to the likes of you. And one other thing, keep the new girl at bay. Fresh meat in my territory never lasts long. The boys eat quickly and aggressively and I fully intend to watch. 

The Battering Ram With A Pretty Face

Life on a Wire

Feeling you're heartbeat in your fingertips
Your jaw clenched tight, completely unnoticed
Tapping your foot, shaking your leg
Your mind can't focus, you can't breath
This is anxiety and it won't leave
Just relax, fuck yourself, that's not how it works
It's like you're falling and falling
Wondering when you'll hit the end
Certain death is coming but you can't tell when
People want to help and ask what to do
But they just add more pressure
Why can't you leave me alone
Lungs are full of water
Heads in a vice grip
Hearts gone tachycardic
Nothing else exists
The storm will break, just wait it out
You've done it before, you can do it now
Every second hurts more than the last
It'll always gets worse before it'll pass