...unintentionally
I honestly have made the self-realization that my posting schedule has been mostly monthly.
My house has slowly been becoming quieter. The sister group has relocated to their near-finished abode. Jag, and I hope I am not speaking out of turn, has been narrowing herself down to the thought of centralizing herself. I can't talk for her, so I won't & I hope I am not spoiling future news.
All of this recent opening of my space has brought on the sadness of reality back, making me feel less distracted by all the wonderful people around me and again focus on - me.
I decided to flip through an old diary of mine. A difficult part of this finding myself has been gathering the proverbial balls to look at my writings from before my attempt. It was hard to flip through the pages of what are, at face value, pure hate and vitriol of myself. Below is a snippet of an entry I wrote the night before my suicide attempt.
Advanced Warning. For triggering dark, hate-filled self-reflection. Yet this was how far I was gone at the time. I, again, shall never find the words or actions that would properly repay KaiMei for his heroism that day and for saving me.
" Selfish, worthless bitch. Laid unto the ground, stabbed countlessly to death by emotionless men. Countless times to wish it was blood, not lust, filling the gape. If only his dirty cock measured in length to reach my black heart. Silence this waste of life! "
~ ♦ ~
"My vagina still feels filled with warm skin as I vomit alcohol, semen, and blood in my bathroom. Just holding this goddamn pen tasks all my will between bouts with my head in a porcelain bowl of shame. If a god truly lived about this earth - he must smite such a shameful failure of whore as I."
~ ♦ ~
" Goodbye, god-forsaken hell. I sign this last entry with the blood of my veins before doing what god himself is too ball-less to commit! My last entry, Curse all those who find these books of the failed bitch. My blood is on your hands in such depth as they will be on mine. A Fucked society of perfection that only rapes the lost, like me, into death. Today is my correcting of error. Goodbye, good riddance!"
*Notation:
The reference of death within the first entry comes from a song by Cutting
Crew called " (I just) died in your arms". The song's usage of death
comes from french "la petite mort" ((the little death)) being used as a
metaphor for an orgasm.
These are the entries of the week prior up to the day of. I felt no one knew love to me, only hate & lust. Society and its pressures had pushed me into what felt to be a self-served abduction into mindless compliance. I was drinking heavily and vomiting the mornings after from hangovers & alcohol poisoning. I allowed myself to be a toy to men who saw no value in me & thus instilled a lack of self-worth in my self-image.
The book, which I refuse to post imagery of, does have my blood stained through its pages from the final entry. I recall snippets of using a box-cutting knife to slice my palm open to smear the blood onto the book before placing it on my face in tears, tearing at my clothes from the pain I felt from the cut.
I am not recounting these details to scare my readers, footnote a horror story, or inspire such acts by others. I do so as a record of opening this book, my forsaken scripture, feeling more power than I did the day I last wrote within its papers. I shed tears reading these few pages and realizing the real power and size of the demons I nearly lost the war too.
This diary ended on that entry and will remain as such. It rests with my other private collections to be, as earlier dubbed, a dark scripture of my lowest past. To show me what rock bottom looks like and how far I have and will continue to come from that point. It will also remind me that when I believed no one loved me, someone did. So much so - as to risk their safety and health to save my life.
As my home begins to empty of all the life with such characters and unique experiences, I must remind myself that when I am alone, the demons will again try to reclaim their prey. I have a long road to fight while trying to find myself - My true self.
That road brought many people into my home & so many unexpected events and, at times, downfalls.
One example is falling into my old ways with Bruno, Jag's Bodyguard. Yet I cherish the opportunity to have experienced that form of pleasure in a way in which I controlled and felt beauty instead of pain and hate.
I shall close out this entry so I may go to bed. I shall do so by asserting to you, my readers, know that someone loves you. No matter how doubtful the thought or sheer audacity, you mean the world to someone close to you. Never let your demons tell you otherwise!
I close this entry by wishing you a good night, or day, filled with small victories. I love all of you who read or visit this blog. I do not have the time to mince words to strangers, we are all connected & my love of you is true no matter our connection within reality.
😘 xoxo
