remember something, anything

i remember nothing. you don’t understand, this exercise won’t work on me, i remember nothing. it’s all grey and sometimes black and maybe if i’m lucky one day i’ll get a vivid image in all the colors on the spectrum. that’s not good, though, not healthy, induced by mania or acid. i can only feel happy when im doing drugs. but i can only feel happy if the people i’m doing drugs with make me happy. so maybe it’s not the drugs but the people but i’m too traumatized to tell the difference.

i remember being left. left alone, left to cope on my own. so sorry if i react to help and love like a wounded feral cat. the thing is i was raised by goddamned wolves, listen, listen, they taught me not to feel but i am all feeling, no logic. so i failed that test. i failed test after test, could never fulfill the conditions to earn my mother’s love.

havne’t written in weeks, honestly. i don’t know what happened, something in my brain snapped in half and i could barely speak let alone write. could only speak harsh words, could only wound like i’ve been wounded.

i remember my epiphany where i realized i have to stop blaming the actions of my abusers for why i am the way i am. i remember it, and yet here i am, miserable because i was left with a series of injuries and no first aid kit. i had to make the fucking first aid kit myself. i’m not a man made to survive in the wilderness, yet somehow im here, at 23, surviving. i think that’s a miracle. i think that’s beautiful.

beautiful, but i’m tired. beauty is hard work. you wake up at five am and pretend you’re asleep for five hours so people don’t worry about your sleeping habits. can you still blame jet lag three weeks later? can you still blame your untimely break up for your misery?

no. you can’t. something is wrong. i am telling you something is wrong.

an accident.

let’s call it an accident, even though there are no such things as accidents. but you must have regretted it because you were cooperative. no, i was guilted. guilt eats me alive.

i hate who i am.

i think that’s the point of all this.

i hate who i am.

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