...About A Girl...

the past can't kill me
@ 2:45 pm on March 12, 2005

For me, friendship has always been something that I was looking for. Someone that I could connect with on almost every single level and understand. I always thought real friends could feel one another's pain and suffering.
For some reason I have never run into this, at least not until Christina and I became best friends.
I know its probably really whack to say that our friendship runs deeper than normal friendships do, but somehow I believe this.

When she's upset about Ryan and we aren't together, I almost swear I can sense it. I hate having Christina be so worried and heartbroken. She is beyond a beautiful person and our friendship is so important to me.

I remember thinking that I could never be complete without having a best friend that could understand me and never betray me, a friendship that would never be broken or tarnished by words or arguments.
Christina and I had a huge falling out at the beginning of this school year...
I think that if that hadn't of happened our friendship wouldn't have blossomed into what it was. I'm also a completely different person from who I was back then.

I know who I am. I know what I like in myself and what I look for in other people to determine friendship. I am secure in the fact that I'm not perfect and I accept my insecurities and flaws.

I remember being so angry at everyone around me for so long. I felt like because I had been fucked over and had no real father I had an excuse to be a bitch to everyone. Christina didn't even know her biological father until she was 12. She still has problems accepting not knowing him for a while, if I'm not mistaken. Abuse in our pasts and absence of fathers have given us similar things to relate to. It may not seem big to you. Unless you have grown up without a real loving father, you wouldn't understand how much that can damage and mar your upbringing.

This is why we have so many problems with men. We are on this anti-penis shindig not only for the men that corrupted us and broke our hearts in the present, but also because we had absent fathers...

Maybe I would have been a lost cause if I had a father. Maybe I'd be one of those dumb broads that parades around with a Gucci bag and a big smile.

Fuck that.

Something I've always hated is people lying and making up stories about abuse they've been though. Somehow I can always see through it too... [like Stacy at my school claims to have been raped...] I don't buy it. Sometimes their stories seem too extravagant or overly detailed... I realize the following will sound like that... but the only difference is that it actually happened to me. Why else would I be on anti-depressants and anxiety supressants?

xxx♥xxx

[the following might not be suitable for those with ptsd, that have experienced abuse...don't read on if this is you]

My only real wake-up call came when I was sent to Spring Creek Juvenile Detention Center for five days after a minor probation violation. I woke up and realized that this wasn't who I was, or who I wanted to be...
I didn't want to be rebellious or feared. I wanted to be looked up to, not looked down upon for my bad choices.
I had a mild breakdown after being released from juvie... When you are pent up and isolated in a cell all by yourself for such long periods of time with no distractions your mind begins to remember things...
Things I had earlier forgotten or suppressed came to the surface about being molested. I had known it had happened, but I had never actually been honest with myself or others about it. I still call the man that's in my memories the man without a face , because in my memories there is no face. I know who it is, I know... but I'm scared if I admit it to myself or anyone else... things will just combust including my sanity and heart.
Remembering my suicide attempts from ages 11-15 still scare me. I'm glad they weren't successful... I love life now...
No eleven-year-old anywhere should know about suicide let alone attempt it.
Sick. What has this world come to?

My father used to lock me in this closet under the stairs in my house in Michigan. I feared the dark so much when I was a child, unlike now , I embrace it... I still have a giant fear of moths... not many people know why, but this is my diary and I don't see why I can't write that I'm scared of them . I'm scared of harmless moths because they covered the floor of that closet under the stairs, they fluttered around in my face when I was locked in there without food or water ...

How in my teen years my father started in on the physical abuse and not just the psychological bull shit... that really fucked with me.

He used to find glass to throw at me when he went into a rage that came from nowhere.
He'd tell me to get on the floor and he'd start kicking the shit out of me and torturing me. He took the glass and threw it against the wall and smiled when he saw the shards shatter and hit my skin. Sometimes he'd go as far as to take a large shard and cut me across my back. I still have a scar from this...

Sometimes its hard for me to accept how fucked up my childhood was. My mother doesn't even know half of it because I couldn't bare to see that torment cross her face if she had that knowledge. I love my mom, and I know she would blame herself for everything if I told her...

I told Christina a few weeks ago I felt like I could open up to her about it. I feel if I hear the words of my life story emerging from my mouth I'll freak out. So I find comfort in just typing on my computer and scribbling notes to her about snatches of my past.

I feel that if I hadn't had so much abuse in my life there would have been no Matt or Auston or James or Chris. Especially no Chris...

I don't know. I feel like I'm going off on a tangent again. My head is beginning to hurt and I think if I go on any further with this I might start crying. Call me a coward, or call me smart... either way I lose in the end for not speaking out.

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