The Crush.

Most cases of rape that can be found on the popular news channels are about strangers that randomly pick the victim, drug her, attack her and even murder her. It’s a fact that 1 out of 5 women have been sexually abused before their 20th birthday. But they don’t talk so much about all those cases of it being your best friend that does it, your husband, boyfriend, colleague…Family cases are brought up but; is it more about the shock factor, the horror factor than the actual news?
Do they publish it just to make you worry about wearing that skirt you bought last week, to make you think twice about being the independent woman that you are and walking home alone, living alone, to make you hold your child’s hand just that little bit tighter and trust a little bit less…Or do they actually give a damn?
Out of my circle of feminine friends, I admit this to be a small one as I tend to find myself more comfortable in the company of men (ironic considering…), maybe only one or two out of all the women I have had the pleasure of being close friends with have never admitted to have been violated in one way or another. Note the tiny number in that sentence and bear in mind that they could have suffered an event like the others but prefer not to tell the tale. That means, let’s say I have 12 female friends for example, 8 of them have been abused or raped, two have been victims of attempted rape or abuse and the other two we make no assumptions about what or what not has happened.

The part that makes my stomach drop, no matter how many times a similar story is told to me through tears, is that these people, the ones that have taken these women’s dignity, their privacy, their right to say no, the ones that have soiled that body that society already makes so damn hard to love “just the way we are”, making it impossible to ever see it the same way again, those people, are nearly always someone so close to them, you’d never suspect it. Why question that she’s quiet around a co-worker all of a sudden? They probably had a problem at work, what about her boyfriend? Maybe the love has fizzled… A husband? Money troubles!
There shall always be a reason she could be quiet, subdued.
But those people love her, right? They care for her, right?
She thought that too and that’s the devastation, right there.
How can you ever trust a person again when the person you’ve trusted the most is the one to crush you in the most intimate way…

 

There’s always going to be someone worse off than you but that isn’t a reason to belittle your pain or quiet down your story, you too are a survivor and that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed.

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Countdown.

I really don’t know how much longer I can do this.

I used to brush it off, it was just a bad moment, it would pass.
That’s what people must think when they shout in the snow covered mountains… Just a moment of insanity and an avalanche was born, they suffocated.
I’m suffocating now, with forced normality, forced calm.

The world seems to grate a lot harder on me than on others, I used to think I was strong, I’m not anymore.
Like a rock turned to sand over time by the gentle caress of waves, their dancing foam slowly washing away everything that made me, me, just like the rock, I can’t recognize myself in this sand I’ve become.
Made of glass and bone, swept along, unable to be what I was destined to, waking up is painful now, just knowing I have a whole new day ahead of me, I can’t face it.
I’ve alienated all of those around me, been called crazy, a monster, maybe they’re right, I don’t know anymore, I don’t know me.

They tell me I’m hurting them but they don’t want me to leave yet it hurts so much to stay.
Is is more selfish of me to want to leave or of them to want to force me to stay?

I can hardly breathe, I wish I wasn’t anymore. I wish it would just stop, go dark and the pain would turn into numbness, unaware, I’d be free and freedom sounds like the loveliest thing.

The pacive part of me is turning to active, each time there are less reasons to stay, more to go. All I do is hurt people, wouldn’t it be better to hurt them in one go and then them never suffer me again?
Surely it would be preferable to a lifetime of annoyance, leaning my weight on them.
Surely they know nothing when they ask me to stay, why say it’s for them when they earlier said I only hurt them?

Do they only want me to stay to liberate themselves of guilt? The “I could have helped her, I should have…” the “whys” and “what ifs…” for the rest of their lives…?

I’ve began to think that way, each time more and more.

I have so much to give you world but my time is running out, I can feel it.

I feel myself slipping, my hands reaching for the medicine drawer, each time I care less the dosis I take, I only waver thinking of the consecuences if I fail.

How absurd is it that for trying and failing to take your own life you will be sentenced to jail… ? Your body in shreds along with your mind and all they think of is punishing you, instead of trying to give you help long ago needed. The world is fucked up, surely it isn’t just me that feels it, that can’t stand it… I can’t be alone but no matter how much I scream out, it seems to be in vain, for loving ears turn deaf to things they aren’t ready to deal with.

My throat is sore for begging, I don’t want to do this, I want help, I’ve spent years od my short life asking for it, screaming for it, how can nobody listen?

It terrifies me to contemplate the amount of people that have felt this way, lost in the system, ignored by the world for not being like them, silenced by the air that gave them life. All my life I’ve wanted to help them and now I can’t even help myself.

I beg of you, if you really love me, if anyone really cares,
take my hand, take me to a doctor, someone who will listen, I’ll go, I have a story to tell, I need to tell or surely it will kill me.

I won’t fight you, you claim to want me to stay, we’re on the same side, I’m fighting  for this too.

I always thought I could save myself but how can I save myself from…me?

I’m losing a battle that will determine the outcome of a war, don’t let me lose.

Please, somebody hear me.

Welcome to The Runaway Cafe.

30minutes.
Day two.

 

She sat on the couch, quietly gripping her coffee mug.
She heard a noise, or was it the silence that was deafening her? Making a drop of water seem like a thunder clap, the solitude was suffocating, yet she was the one that had cancelled all her plans… Again. Outside the sun was shining, too bright for her blue eyes and sad soul. No-one would believe it was nearly November.

She lived five minutes from the beach, a beautiful white beach that stretched for kilometers… She craved the feeling of sand beneath her feet, between her toes, her hair crazy in the wind, waves washing away her shadows…
But… That meant going out.
Out there.
Her soul sank with the realisation of what that meant, and she hadn’t even touched the water yet.

She could do it.
Biting her lip she took a deep breathe and unfolded her legs from under her. They trembled slightly as she got up, her head spinning. It’s hard to believe how something so simple can be so hard.

She peeled off her t-shirt and strolled to the shower, letting the cool water cascade down her body, at that moment everything seemed better than it was, always a waterbaby, it was her favourite place in the house.

She sighed and reached for her towel. You can do this! She thought to herself, pushing herself to the wardrobe to search for something to wear.
Finally after searching she found what she was looking for. The biggest t-shirt she had. Pulling it over her head she reached for her shorts and stopped.
No… She was fine… Wasn’t she..?
Her heart started beating like that of a hummingbird, her body suddenly jumpy and sweating… She could hardly swallow for the ball in her chest.
Her head pounding she slid to the floor, taking deep breaths, she could do this today. She wanted to go to the beach, so why why why did she feel this way? Why did this always happen?!
Tears sprung to her eyes, once again her body was giving in against her minds tricks.

She couldn’t find the strength to make her legs work.
The room that five minutes ago was filled with a beautiful afternoon light, a breeze running through the house, suddenly felt menacing. It started to close in around her. The light taunted her, the breeze had gone. The light was no longer beautiful but burning, scorching her pale skin, she could feel her skin screaming for mercy, her heart beating faster… Faster. The comfortable tee she had pulled on was strangling her, restricting her breathing… Too hot… It’s too hot. She could hardly breathe, her eyes swimming in and out of focus…
The soft material was scratching at her, pain striking all over like needles, she gasped and tried fruitlessly to release herself from her material prison…
And in a flash the fury arrived, like a lightning bolt through her body, the control of her limbs lost to her, her knuckles struck wood and bruised instantly, the pain only making her angrier.
-You’re WEAK, this was STUPID. YOU ARE STUPID! What a stupid idea! The beach? Yeah, right. Why would anyone want you there? They’d just stare at such a weirdo. Her mind snarled at her, the flow of insults spinning around her head.
Yanking the tee over her head she made herself into a ball in a dark corner, hating everybody she could hear in the street. How dare they pass by here laughing? Taunting her suffering?

And just like that the anger dissapated. Gone before she could control it, control herself… And in its place was the darkness it fed off… Her insides a hollow, cold, echoey place where the black dog that had her soul lived.

She reached for the door to help herself up but couldn’t even raise her hand anymore…
And so she gave in, the tears rolling down her coloured cheeks, her eyes grey, the blue bled out. What was the point in trying? She wondered how long it would be until she would see herself again, until he let her go, and for how long this time..? Surely this couldn’t last forever… Could it?

They say after the darkest hour comes dawn…

So there she sat, hugging her knees to her chest, in the corner of her beautiful room, waiting for her sunrise.

Stop. Start.

Featured

30 Minutes.
Day One.

Have you ever felt so low that you get dizzy?
Just standing up is a huge effort… Damn, even breathing is painful because your chest weighs that much.
Bursts of anger surge through you with no fore warning. They just appear, destroying whatever was in front of you. All logic retreats into the darkness that is all around you.

They disappear just as fast as they come, finished before you understand what is happening to you and you’re left with a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve messed up again. You’ve broken it… You’ve hurt him.
And then the pounding resounds in your head, your vision turns blurry, all strenght long gone and all is left is you, a quivering mass of pain, all hope of being normal drained from your being…

Not every moment is this bad.
There’s worse too.
And better.

I was fine five hours ago. I was kissing my boyfriend good bye for work and dancing around with my dog. Sounds wonderful, I know. My life is wonderful, or it would be, if I were normal.

It’s mostly when I’m not occupying my mind that it takes over, but how do I keep busy when my body is failing me?
Every day I spend various hours on the computer looking for interesting jobs, courses, then when they call me to ask me for an interview I shy back, my mind is a web of excuses, terrified of leaving the house it can say anything. I envy its imagination. Yes, I refer to my own mind as another being. I stopped calling it mine when I realized I had no control over it.

“It’s just a bad month, just a hard time at the moment… You’ll be fine.”

Oh, it’s a wonderful world for the ignorant.

I wonder how long they could spend in my skin? Would they claw their way out? End it? Would they drink more? Sleep? Would they turn to drugs? Or could they handle it? Is it just me that can’t do this? Maybe it’s easy and I just can’t find the angle to make it right… It’s a photo that I’m unable to find the right light to capture, a recipe that just needs to be perfected. I can’t even control the flow of my thoughts. I’ve dragged the keyboard onto my lap as sitting correctly is too much for me right now. I can’t even look at the screen as the words waver and flash, is it the daily pain that makes me feel this way or is it this that makes me feel this pain as to be acknoledged?

It used to be just mental, I’d be sad, tired, but I’d sleep and it would all feel better for a few days. Now the pain is everywhere. My whole body is in tension, constantly, whilst I sleep, whilst I live every single day the pain is there. I can hardly talk these days as my throat is so tense, I can’t sing, I can’t scream… My mind is taking me prisioner and I am helpless as it does so.

I always find a reason not to end it, not to give up but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.
I love him so much, my puppy, my pets but I find it so hard sometimes to convince myself that he speaks the truth when he tells me he needs me and no matter how dark the dark days are with me, the light ones are worth it.
I don’t leave for the fear of the pain that I could cause others, but what about me?
What about me?
I’m so tired.
I need help.

And I have no idea where to turn.

Fuck you 30 minutes of writing. You’ve just made this a whole lotta not better.
Let’s see how tommorrow goes…

Derrame del-por Pasado-Presente.

Esta noche me pesa. Me sofoca y necesito dormir pero el sueño me evade. Oigo mi corazón cayendo en picado. Sus trozos finos como la arena blanca de una playa desierta, su sonido delicado como cristal al chocar lo que espero ser el fondo, casi melódico en su agonía. Como la agonía puede quitarme el aliento tras tanto tiempo jamás entenderé. Mi garganta cerrada como si alguien apoyara sobre ella evitando que mis lágrimas se desbordan, obligándolas a quedarse donde están, hundiendo mi mirada haciendo todo borroso. Siento que estoy debajo del mar, ahogandome completamente rodeada de aire. Nada da vueltas, todo esta demasiado quieto para mi corazón que late como si echara a correr. Paralizada sólo me queda mirar de frente, respirar y esperar que mi subconsciente tenga piedad de mi y me deje ser envuelta por la dulce, caliente oscuridad del inconsciente. Poder levantarme mañana con una sonrisa como si esta noche fuera una simple pesadilla, olvidada al abrir los ojos y no este peso constante que aprieta mi pecho amenazando con acabar conmigo.
Lo que más temo y más quiero es olvidarte.

Close to home.

Too close.

It’s been so long since I’ve been on this site, no computer and no strength to tell the truth.

I lost so much last year and the wins feel small against it all. They feel forgettable and that terrifies me. I don’t want to forget those tiny things that made me smile, made me push on…

Im determined to make up for that feeling this year, making it one impossible to forget, whatever happens let it be with a bang!

I came on to this page tonight to flood away these shakes I’m plagued with after watching a film with a plot revolving around a teenager being raped and seeing her rapist every day without anybody else knowing the truth. I felt sick but couldn’t stop… That person who destroyed who she was and made the person she became, everyone loving him and her swallowing down bile when seeing his face… It’s been years since it happened yet here I am, shaking as if it was yesterday. Her face and her feelings could have been mine, hers was a casual school mate, mine was my best friend, my boyfriend, the person who swore loved me the most and had me in the palm of his hand. He has who I was forever… That beautiful soul of mine will forever hold those scars and I can only whisper in hope that one day it won’t be this way… Something will change. It has got better but I will never get that girl back and he doesn’t deserve to keep her. One day I will find a way to set her free.  Tell the world to watch her shine… One day that girl will smile again.

Time.

Time for myself… I don’t mean to go to a spa or anything like that, I just mean space, to think, to breathe a sigh and not have someone ask why. It’s so rare… So hard to come by and so necessary.

I feel really sad today. One of my primary school teachers came into where I work, as a waitress, floor staff at a local zoo, it’s a cool place and I love working there but she was so disappointed to see me there and I sort of am now too. I wanted so much when I was younger, a higher education being a must on my list and I never got there, never made it and it terrifies me to think I may never get there. I say I will but, will I really? After working so long, dreary desk jobs and harassing waitress ones…Will I really be able to go back to studying, if so, how?

I just have so many things on my mind and saying them out loud just seems to make them so much worse.
I just want to run away. Again.

IOU

Image

If I could, I would rather run away than lay here and pretend everythings okay one more night.
But I can’t, because if I broke your heart I’d break myself into pieces for doing it so, my best friend, my amazing M, I’ll lay here again, side by side, hands touching, your warmth lulling me to sleep, pretending that everything will be okay in the morning, that it’s just a bad patch and that we’ll be together forever.

All because of one thing that hasn’t changed, although everything else has.

I love you.

Just Let Me Go.

The past is a beautiful thing. It’s terrible and can be crippling if you contemplate it for too long, you find yourself wondering “what if…” and can slowly destroy yourself, only to one day wake up from it and realize you’ve wasted years trying to change the past while wasting your present. But like all bad things it’s also amazing. In our pasts are the reasons that make us what we are, each lesson learned, every cut and scrape, every smile, every hug, those people that can’t be there now for whatever reason, they are all there and they always will be.

Even patients with demencia or alzheimers remember them, their parents, their lovers, people that hit them hard and stayed with them even with a crippling illness slowly stealing their souls, they hold on to those faces, those moments from their past.

Our memories are beautiful, like a photograph, forever there although we fear they aren’t, although there are names and faces we can’t place, they are there, a part of us holding onto them forever.

I wonder if we feel that pull somehow… If someone misses us so much, remembers us, how can it be we can’t feel that…It seems imposible to me, it can’t be that we feel so much and they don’t…We are capable of conecting on so many levels, somehow, somewhere we must feel a niggle, an itch, hear their voices, smell their perfume…

It can be a horrible feeling sometimes, making you sick to your core. Someone who destroyed who you were, crushed you and you still feel that, still remember that smell, that touch however much you want to forget it. Like I said, it’s a love-hate relationship I have with this world of ours.. I see both sides and can never decide with which I agree as both have good arguments. Like a well placed security camera I see everything and it makes it so hard to love or hate.

I’ve just realized how much I go off topic.

I know it’s because there are things I feel I need to talk about but don’t have the courage yet… Like a puppy been hit once later cowers away. In time dear ciberspace I shall reveal all, in my own way and time this magicians cards shall be on the table for all to be seen.

Maybe that way finally I shall be free.

Silence please.

I was always told to think before I spoke and because of that never said many things I should have, some haunt me to this day some make me laugh and thank my parents for making me learn that lesson. In school they plead with us to unleash our minds, to be creative and show what we think when we write, to act on our beliefs then we leave school and that becomes social suicide fast track. In work areas we are to be quiet unless asked otherwise and even then we would be stupid to say what we really thought. Trick questions asked, how are you, how do you feel, do you think this is correct, how do you do this, did so and so say this… Holes they allow us to dig for ourselves and later fall in on all fours and scramble around in the dark that suddenly surrounds us in that moment of desperation. Should I tell the truth or what you want to me to say? Should my opinion be voiced or locked in a box, only to come out in the form of steam later on… So many things we’re told to keep quiet, we’re turned into human time bombs, only to explode once alone or with loved ones. Damage control unavailable at the time of the accident…

Silence that creates broken people, broken spirit and broken hearts.

Silence that can heal a wound, that can reassure the uneasy or triple the fear.

Is it for the best or is that just another lie we tell ourselves to allow our cowardice? 

Is it easier to keep quiet or to shout?

If we didn’t silence our voices so often would the world be a better place or a worse one?

Truthes that either make or break us.

When is the time to decide?