April 14 Monday 2008

I felt today like I should just be honest and make my plans for a year from now. I really don't want to live like this and I realize how incredibly unlikely this is going to stop. I mean if they are actually targeting my parents who are basically harmless people who when picked apart, seem to have small faults like anyone else, then what hope is there for me 5 years from now?

The only reason is not to hurt my parents. I honestly don't know what will be worse for them. If I am going to do it anyway 5 or 10 years down the road it seems better to do it as soon as possible. Sometimes I forget how painful this is, how destructive. I don't think I've fully comprehended the ramifications of that possibly induced anger two weeks ago. I feel strongly it was done on purpose, but then it's not as if it was real then that would make it any more acceptable.

If there is any chance of things getting better they probably added a year on just from that. I guess they know what they want. They know how they want this to play out.

I felt awhile ago that they really did want me dead. That was as I've read from one person, an attempt to get someone to commit suicide, murder without evidence or responsibility.

I just don't know if I can continue to live this way. I've already made one attempt and that was greeted with absolutely no interest. I know what to do now to make sure it's 99% effective, although a bit dramatic but oh well. The pain in this tries to infect every part of your life, right down to your very thinking patterns and feelings. What a colossal f**k to know you are being "punished" for something you're not even sure came from you.

It really hurts sometimes to know actual people approve and want to do this to you. Right now there is a feeling in my asscrack of wetness, it feels very violating and is disturbing. For some reason this is okay to those who are aware of this, because I'm a "bitch", some kind of creature they compared me to.

I just can't believe they decided to make things so much worse for me. It's stupid and naive, and I beat myself up for forgetting. I still have the video of what they did to me. So why would I be surprised? They're thrilled with themselves for getting things back to the point where they can hurt me this badly again. The ferocity, the rage, the ugliness and hatred.

What is my life worth? What kind of life is this and why doesn't anyone care? Why does one person's life not matter? Do they really think I did this to myself?

I know for a fact there's always that energy in my head, and I'm so surprised sometimes at how it messes with my feelings and moods and thoughts. Which is why I should have known better than to not recognize the anger. They force me to constantly think about them. Even though I never leave the house and am punished for leaving the house. I'm constantly forced to think about it, what it's doing to me.
I want to kill myself. I can't live like this anymore. I'm tired of something like artificial tears welling up in my eyes right now for some reason. I'm tired of no longer feeling completely like myself, like the decent person I know I am. I'm tired of being afraid of my own thoughts. I'm tired of being afraid of turning on the TV. I am not outside the world. I'm a part of it, although some of it may have marked me as a border, as a boundary, as an example.

I think I desparately crave compassion and kindness. I know who I really am now, who I was before S. got ahold of me and infected me with his rage, who I was before depression set in while I was in high school. And it's so hard to reconcile that that person should be so damned and viliified, when I know how ordinary and simple and really okay I am deep down.
I'm here, I'm still here so that means something.
But I don't want my life to be a fight. They insist on it though, with their slogans of "You won't win". As if I ever put up my hands to fight, as if talking to yourself like an insane person was an invocation to fight, deserves this attack on a human life.

I like myself so much better now, but is it of much use to me now? It's like learning to love yourself at your deathbed.

I wish I'd been kinder to myself. Really, if I'd been nicer to myself I would have a nicer life and would not be in this position. But then I didn't know I was being taken advantage of so how could I object at that time? If I knew then what I knew now, but I didn't.

Life is a great thing. Life is beautiful, and if my life is going to be used as an example in this horrible way, maybe some people will get the real message. Listen to and trust yourself. Be kind to yourself. Don't waste your life, especially not for other's dreams or ideals or commands. It doesn't make you a better person to give yourself up, to lose yourself to a person or a group. And if you do lose yourself hopefully you can pick yourself back up and come back.

That's what I learned from my 32 years but it doesn't seem like I have much leeway to use any of it. Deathbed, again. If anybody's reading this sorry so morbid but this is an ugly thing happening to me and sometimes it's too much. I remember other versions of myself, my 11 year old self reading teen magazines and sitting quietly in class with my glasses and in daydreams, or Mr. Elrod and his praise of my poems freshman year, or the crushes I had, or the few boys who looked at me interestedly. That was me then, the same me I am now. Just a girl. Kind of a geek and a little weird. And they turned me into something else for themselves. But I know I'm still just that girl, so it's hard.