Pure Venting

I don't know even know how to start this, honestly. I don't even know how to start anything here lately. To be honest, most of my life I don't know how to start anything. Whether it's a new job, a story, a new chapter of my life or the healing process. I have no freaking idea.

I take baby steps that eventually lead to me giving up completely. With everything. Or I just accept how I started it and deal with it, only to quit later on. It's normal for me, well since my teenage years.

I don't even know how to be happy. Every single time that I begin to feel happy I immediately think of what could go on wrong. And honestly sometimes my doubts are right, but not all of the time. Even though sometimes I wouldn't even know because I gave up on finding out.

I never let anything just happen to me, not anymore. I don't understand why, maybe I'm just gunshy now. After what all has happened in my life, I find it hard to not be in control at all times. And usually I'll be honest it probably ruins most things for me.

One example is I'm going to see a friend this summer. I decided on a whim that I was going to go and was pretty happy about it. Now, I'm constantly worrying. I know that things can go horribly wrong, trust me I've gone over almost every possibility. I mean I'll be over a thousand miles away, and won't be able to run when I feel uncomfortable.

I trust her, as much I possibly can. But I hope that she realizes that I don't trust anyone completely. It's been a very long time since I was able to do that. And I know that it sounds old. Oh, you were raped but that happened four years ago. But to me sometimes, it's like it just happened yesterday.

It's that time of year. On July 2nd, it'll be exactly four years since my first assault. And knowing now that he's assaulted three more girls, it's on my mind constantly. I will have to face him again, and it chills me to the core. I'm angry, hate-filled when it comes to him, but deep down I'm still scared. I think I'll always be. I still think that he's fucking invincible. I mean he didn't get the punishment he deserved for abusing me. My abuse was written off like it's okay to hurt me, at least in my eyes.

That's most of my problem. My confidence has been so low since then, I still believe that it was okay for him to do that to me. Hell, I must've just begged for it the way the state handled it. So it's stuck in my mind. Deep down, I know that I didn't deserve to be treated that way. I know that I am innocent. And I still blame the justice system for letting him go. Yeah, he was punished sort of, but not obviously enough.

Then, I think about my future and constantly doubt myself. I'm worthless I'll find my mind saying without me even thinking it. I mean I've had people tell me that I have jobs waiting for me whenever I finish college. It's the perks of being in a small town and having your parents working for the school system. But here I am still debating if I am even worth moving on in my life.

Sometimes I believe that I died during my abuse. That during one of the many attacks that I just left my body, and my soul was left behind. And here I am, just living as a shell of a human. I don't feel many emotions; I've shut them out, grown cold. I don't believe in love, and I don't know if I ever will again. I've even been told that I'm heartless because I don't show emotion. I don't often cry unless it's something heart-wrenching, and I can't hold them back. I smile, but they're mostly fake. I don't know happy, I don't know how it feels anymore. I can remember it slightly, but I don't know when I'm feeling it.

Then, it goes to my writing. Ever since I was little, I dreamed of becoming an author, a great writer. It was all I ever wanted. And I gave up, I left it behind. I fought for it, and wrote stories on here trying to regain my love for it and I did at times. But then I would doubt it. I would tell myself that it wasn't good enough. That no one would like it, that they would think it was weird or choppy, etc. And I've been battling to knock those doubting thoughts. To just write for me, but then by the time I finish a chapter the horrible thoughts are already back.

I just want to be me again, if only I knew who I am. I just want to believe in myself again, to have the confidence to fight for my wants and needs. I ... just don't know anymore.

Maybe one day I'll find it all again. Until then I'm going to try and wear this false confidence until I reach where I want to be. I'll put myself into my writing, and try to vent that way just like I used to. Maybe it'll work this time.