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Reblogged from fall3n--an9el
eli-angel0012:

Will I ever get my happy ending?

eli-angel0012:

Will I ever get my happy ending?

(via fall3n--an9el)

Reblogged from chillaxbitch
I’m not sad anymore, I don’t know what I feel. Maybe that’s the real problem, I ignored it until it finally ruined everything I am. chillaxbitch (via chillaxbitch)

(via peaceforest)

Reblogged from bey0nd-galaxy

bey0nd-galaxy:

If you don’t mind cuddling all day or being lazy and sleeping on top of me while watching movies. Or eating pizza or getting hickies. Come be mine

(via fuckingkisses)

Trying to chose between getting the much needed sleep and facing all the horrible nightmares or staying up to avoid them. I wonder how bad they’ll be tonight

Reblogged from pain-from-the-inside
Reblogged from die-young-live-forever-

Reblogged from spillthehappiness

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Reblogged from bandsavedmybrokensoul

Why is my life this way? Why is it that i am the most pathetic loser of all time?That i can’t ever do anything right? My sister the pretty one, the skinny one, the outgoing one, the one with the great personality, the one who I’ve constantly been compared to my whole life has been jealous of my mother and Is relationship. There is something that my sister doesn’t quite grasp or maybe she doesn’t even see it, but the only reason me and my mother have the relationship we do is because i refuse to lose both of my parents. I have never been good enough at anything for her, i could have always done better in everything I’ve ever done. If she saw the way my mother looked at me when she found out i had been cutting myself, or if she knew the pressure she has out on me my entire life to be the perfect one, no one is perfect not even close but i have to be my best every second in with her. Our “good” relationship is with the Erica that everyone sees, not the real me. Not once have we talked about what i endured at that house, what he did to me. Never have i told her about my drug abuse, or my suicidal time. I have not nor will i ever tell her about this past rape. Sometimes i think my sister hates me, because the pretend me seems to have my mom, or that i have my shit together but if only she knew. I grew up by myself, my mother was always working or at school, my father;not my dad, my brother to busy with his own bullshit and my sister to busy hating me. At six years old my childhood, my innocence was ripped away from me; i was thrown out into this awful world by myself and told to learn how to survive. That’s all my life has been, surviving from the time i was six years old to now and it’s still all im doing. A few months ago my rapist kept telling me i was never going to walk out of that room, that i was never going to see another face, that i was never going to see my family again. I begged him to let me live, prayed to a god i don’t know if i believe in and now just a few months later here i am wishing he had killed me. Here i am waking up in the middle of the night sweating, hyperventilating, crying terrified, cursing the world that i am still alive. Every day it becomes more apparent that everything he said to me was true. It really makes me wonder if i was just a random target or if he knew me. Like this guy, who is everything to me i think i was clouded in the beginning, that i was blinded to the fact that i am not good enough for him, that i will never be good enough. I don’t know how i could have possibly forgotten that fact as it has been true my entire life. I have never been good enough, and i will never be good enough. I am as worthless as i was the day my father stopped probably even more worthless. I have tried to hide from my reality for a very long time; this is my reality, i am broken, i am NOTHING, i am worthless, i fuck everything up, i do not and will never deserve anything good in my life, i should really stop trying to change those facts. I have accepted that my rapist was right, i wont ever forget everything he has enlightened me on about myself.

Its crazy how much can happen to one person, one person who by any question is a good person. I got pregnant and i ended up miscarrying, it was all just so much that i relapsed. I broke out those shiny little blades that have been calling my name for over three years and dug them into my fresh pale skin. It was like i was transferred back into my darkest times. The last time i had cut before this was tenth grade, Skylar told me he was done trying to save me, that he was giving up on me. i cut myself so bad after that, it was the first time i had truly scared myself when it came to cutting. my hips were so tore up, the cuts so deep, i went to my guidance counselor the next day. I knew she would send me away, which was clearly what i needed. When i found out i lost the baby, that i wasn’t good enough to do my one physiological job as a women, i lost it, i was back to being that little 8 year old girl constantly being reminded of the fact i wasn’t good enough. Just like i used to i immediately regretted what i did but for the time being when that slick, silver blade tore apart my skin it was like i was content again. Today at work i had a customer who reminded me of my latest rapist, i don’t think it was him and i cant really put my finger on what was so triggering. If it was his shaggy hair or the way he smelled, maybe it was both but it was like i was back on that floor having my head bashed into the ground, trying not to whimper as he shoved his fist inside me, never stopping the constant thrusts. Any sounds i made fueled him. I felt like a drum set constantly being beat on, it was like he was making his own rhythm. After Skylar i was never really ever able to completely open myself up to someone, because i know once they see it all, hear/know everything it’ll all be to much and they will disappear. I am so madly in love with an amazing guy and he knows a lot but i fear i will never be at the point where i can just talk to him about how shitty my PTSD was today; Or that some random guy brought back a horrible memory. I honestly just don’t know how to form the words, I am hurting, I am broken, I am not okay. How do you tell someone that you are having nightmares where he watches you being raped? repeatedly, by multiple guys. That sometimes the nightmare isnt as bad because he’s being forced to watch, because it kills him to see this, because he tries with everything he has to save me even though its not enough. How do you tell him that most of the time, in the nightmare he encourages my rapists, that he cheers them on, laughing and jacking off. how does it not make that person want to run from the hills. Its so hard because he is the only person i want to talk about this stuff too, but he is so important to me i cant even imagine being so selfish as to risk what we have by talking about the horrors inside my head. This guy makes life worth living, makes me forget for even just a little bit that i do not live the life i live. He makes the world a better place which is something i need so bad, because my life is the worst place to be. ever since the first day my dad raped me i basically told myself i would never have kids, that i would never ever bring an innocent child into this fucked up world. When I’m with him, everything changes, that premise seizes to exist, he makes me see the good in this world. although i am in constant fear that i will prove to not be good enough, like i have been my entire life. Constantly compared to someone better than me, this all is something I’m used to and in the end if it comes to this i will know that it was me, i will understand for it is something i have been grasping my entire life.