(no subject)
I feel shaky and sick to my gut. I turned the thermostat right up and I’m still so fucking cold. I’m scared. It’s almost like being a child again, stuck somewhere you don’t understand and all you want is to curl into a tight ball and hide away in the dark until you’re forgotten about. They keep checking on me, why can’t they just leave me the hell alone?! It causes a cold draft for god’s sake.
It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be to make me remember, I had visions that I’d still be sitting on that couch a week later twiddling my thumbs still trying to recall the barest thing. But, I guess these guys know what their doing and how to do it. Bastards. I just want to stop thinking, I want to stop seeing these things, they don’t need words or a soundtrack; some things just speak for themselves. Why did I have to go to Bunta? Why did I have to think this a good idea? I knew I wasn’t strong enough, and just like mum said. I can’t put the lid back on.
Dirty. Disgusting. Used. Trashed. Beaten. Abused . Filthy. Worthless. Useless. Insignificant. Crushed. Broken. God, if they knew…they’d never speak or look at me again. It can’t be right; they can’t do that and then leave me like this. It’s just fucking cruel. My skin, it’s…. fuck.