There are things that have happened to me. Things I’ve only vocalized out-loud in the presence of someone who is being paid in some way to listen to me talk while trying to analyze exactly what the fuck is wrong with me. things I’ve only said out loud for the first time within these past six months. Things that happened to me while I was five-ish. And continued till I was ten-ish. Things my childhood brain compartmentalized so fucking well that I was able to pretend nothing was wrong for a very long time. Except there always was something wrong. I knew the world could be a dark and putrid place. Ugly. Vile and disgusting. It touched me. Left a mark on me. Tainted me. But no one could know. So I’d pretend everything was ok. I got very good at pretending. To the point I convinced myself the things that happened were something I wanted. Probably looked for myself. An early lesson if you will. I fucking joked about it sometimes. Until suddenly I just wasn’t very good at pretending everything was good anymore and there’d be cracks in the facade.
. Sometimes I was able to pretend everything was ok for weeks, or months. Sometimes years. Until I just wasn’t ok anymore and the darkness showed it’s ass. Sometimes it was only a peak. Sometimes the whole damn ass.
I learned to numb myself at about twelve. Started with Drinking. Some weed. Sexual experimentation. Nothing too crazy. It was easier to numb back then. I was little so the darkness didn’t have much room to grow.
But what I didn’t know was the darkness was an infection being left untreated. It grew stronger as I grew stronger. So the numbing had to grow stronger as well. This fucked up cycle went on for decades.
I wish I could flow the anger I feel, at this moment, through my fingers into this keyboard and onto this screen because I’m no where near writer enough to convey it properly. Anger at myself. Anger at those around me. How did nobody fucking see!!!!! How did nobody fucking protect me! I WAS FIVE FUCKING YEARS OLD!!!! In all the research I’ve done lately after finally admitting what really happened to me all the fucking signs were there! I will fucking kill with my goddamn bare hands before something like that happens to my niece or nephew and I am not even being dramatic. I’m ok with jail time for something like that. All this being typed through hot fiery tears. Sadness. Embarrassment. Fear. This is hard to process as a fucking grown ass man how did I fare so much better before? How was Little Me so much fucking stronger than whoever the fuck this shadow of the person I was supposed to be now is? And fuck you if you didn’t understand that. This isn’t about you.
I’m gonna go sit outside and listen to the storm now. I’ve always loved the rain. Especially storms. I find them oddly calming. Calming Chaos. Title to my new memoirs? I still dig Inappropriate Boners tho. Whatever. Thank you for reading. Or not reading. Idgaf. This isn’t about you.
I’m taking steps. I read somewhere that’s important. Maybe I’ll have the ability to actually vocalize this to someone who knows me soon. That feels important to be able to do.