Something a little darker

I remember being quiet and never saying a word. I remember being in dark place and things seeming like they were never going to get any better. I remember being a kid and being told I was just doing things for attention. I remember being slapped in the face and told I wasn’t anything. I remember taking a blade across my skin just to make sure I could feel things again.

My childhood consisted of moving almost every six months with no reason for it. It was made up of stories and excuses as to why things were the way they were. No one ever dealt with the problems they were boxed up and taped and put in another moving truck to forget about. Instead of facing the problems head on we moved to the next place hoping to leave the darkness behind us. As far as we went and as many times as we ran everything seemed to always catch up and find us.

I remember looking in the mirror and telling myself I could never look any other way because I was expected to be the pretty one as my mother would put it. I was made to feel like my looks where the only thing I had going for me. Everyone liked my dyed hair with crazy colors but no one knew that I did it to hide the insecurities I felt inside.  I changed what I wore to all black and clothes with changes and straps, everyone just thought it was some goth phase but it hid all the things I didn’t want to show. I plastered this smile on my face and added glue for good measure so it would never faulter and give me away.

In years to come I found a different kind of release, I learned what the adrenalin felt like when I start taking a blade across my skin. I by no means wanted to die, but it gave me a high I became addicted to. Longer shirts became apart of my wardrobe to hit the scars that were forming. No one ever saw, I’d wait to get caught and it didn’t happen until I said something. There was so question as to why just that it was for attention.  I made everyone believe it had stopped but I just became better at hiding it then. My brother saved me from that addiction. No one will ever know..

Healthy relationships were not a thing, I was taught that you put up with whatever is thrown at you even if it kills you in the end. Love was just a word and the abuse was normal. Looking for attention in all the wrong places because no one ever taught me to love my self enough to know the difference. I allowed  boys to take my heart and play with it like it was a yoyo, throwing it out and then pulling it back. I thought that was normal and if I wanted more I was asking for to much.  I gave up something precious to me before I was actually ready because I thought that was how it worked. I took the comments of how awful I was and I allowed my face to sting from the slaps because I was taught that its okay because they said sorry after.

Learning that the only person I could truly count on was myself because no one was coming to save me. I had to learn to walk through the fire and just let it burn so I could make it out. I became really good at breathing even when I felt like there was something crushing my chest. I’ve cried so hard that I made my vision blurry. I’ve been broken so many times and there have been plenty of times where I didn’t think I had enough pieces to pick back up and keep going.

I love in a completely different way and I know no matter how hard I try I love with a guard up because its the only way I know how to. I don’t know if the damage that was done when I was younger can ever fully heal but I have learned to live with the darker side of me. My reaction to things sometimes cannot be helped and I’ll apologize when I can. This is apart of my story, its the things that live under the surface.