It's easier to blame what has been done to me, what I have suffered, than to recognize what I'm doing to myself.
It feels better in a warped sense to be a victim, for it is a kind of solid proof that I am here, that I exist, that gives me meaning.
The unknown of what would happen if there was nothing to hold on to, of nothing to prove my identity, my place in my universe, is too much to
consider. What will I do, who will I be?
The fear of getting overwhelmed by the freedom, of not deserving it.
That's why I secretly love my drama, that's what makes me reach for that extra kick, to make it numb, to postpone, to mindlessly roam and scavenge
the internet and the news for that bit that will make me feel better about the pain, make me feel better that there are people out there in seriously
deep s***, who are being murdered, raped, that there is a war between us and them, and not realizing of the war inside me, tearing me apart from the
It feels like I belong if I have my sad story to tell. Look kids! I survived this and this and this, look how much I suffered. Look what they have
done to me.
But it feels damn good to admit, I must say, that I have actually craved the pain. I wouldn't be 'me' without it.
Just like any other drug.
It was a relief to cry like a baby knowing the only person that I can forgive, and who can forgive me, is myself.
It was overwhelming to realize I had, throughout my life since childhood, subconsciously wanting to be accepted, and here it was, ready to be given,
the acceptance of who I am. All I had to do was take it.
And now, it is strange, a weight off my shoulder, and the knowing that me and you, oh stranger, oh enemy, we are in this together.