Break Me

I found a scary e-mail in the back of my inbox today. After reading it, I can only vaguely remember writing it. I haven't check this address in a while, so I could've just forgotten about it. I meant to put it up here when I sent it. The subject was Break me like this posts title.
*Strong language, & triggering thoughts ahead* Please do not read if you aren't safe.

Fuck you
fuck you
fuck you
fuck you
fuck you
Is that it?
The reason I want to cut my hair short
Having long hair pretty much has defined me as a woman
Long hair is feminizing
Femininity is the same as weakness
Females are weak
Long hair makes me weak
I feel the urgent need to be penetrated
I don't want to feel this
The urge has been growing
Along with the thought of lopping off all of my hair

Is this me trying to protect myself?
From this urge?
By making myself more boyish
Less feminine
Less weak
Will the urge stop?

Not to say I'm in any danger if it doesn't stop
I don't leave the house
My friends are out of town still
And going outside where people can see me shakes me up
I set foot outside and a soft smile spreads over my lips
It's a shield
They're gaze glances off

So no
I'm not in any danger of letting my urges beat me
Because there is no one that will make it happen for me
I'm "safe"
So to speak
But not from me
And not from this urge

I'm not looking for pleasure
I'm looking to be looked down on
I want to be shamed
This is what I'm looking for
Shame
I need to be made filthy
I don't know why
I hate being female
I'm so weak
And my emotions rule me
I liked it better when I didn't know why I was sad
When I was just numb
Now everything hurts
and everything sets me off
I want to be penetrated
It hurts to say it
But those words keep running through my head
Shut up already
No one wants you
No one is going to hurt you like this
You're "safe"
So be still
Be still
Please be still

Just in case, I did cut my hair, and the urge did stop. I don't want to be humiliated anymore. In fact, I feel very safe.

Hiding still

There is a new course at school from the campus therapists, for how to help people that ask for your help. I'd actually love to enter, but I'm terrified of the campus therapists. I don't like those ladies, and I'm afraid they'll find me out. I'm pretty scared they'll see my lies upon lies and call me out on them.

I was going to a youth group at church, but I was only able to get to 2 meetings. I put up as an excuse that I had choir practice. Which I did, the 1st time I didn't go. But the next time, I remembered how I was about ready to burst into tears when the speaker talked about how we must be able to love ourselves since God loves us enough to have given us His only Son. I don't feel worthy of that love, and it hurts just to think about it. It hurts terribly and in no way that I can hold inside. If I'd kept going to that youth group, I think I would have been found out. Which is not really such a terrible thing, except for the fact that I invited my brother, my older sibling, to come with me, and he did, and he keeps going even though I'm not going. The past few times, he's just invited me with a tired face, 'I know you're not coming with me, but I'm inviting you anyway.' I really want to go. But I'm so scared.

I keep telling myself that I want to know, whatever it is that happened to me that I can't remember, I want to know, but when something starts scratching at that shell, I get terrified and I must hide.

I'm afraid of entering that course. I'm afraid I'll be found out. I'm afraid of having to drop out halfway through because I can't listen to the speaker without bursting into tears. I'm afraid of having this friend see me crying for no reason. She'll know there's a reason, and I don't want her to know. I don't want her to carry me. I'm afraid of leaning on anybody. What if they hand me back the weight, saying it's too much? What if they decide I'm not worth the effort? What If I'm not worth the effort?
I'm afraid that someone, that isn't me, will tell me these words. I'll have been right, and then there will be no means for me to stand. I will fall, and I won't get back up.

The last year

Sleep would be nice
Last year I changed school's. I started studying at a different, much more expensive college. I'm still trying to convince myself I'm worth the price.
My father is working hard to put me through this school, and I'm grateful. But I can't help thinking that they would all, all of my family, would be better off without me. I'm nothing more than a burden. I have nothing to show for my 21 years. I'm studying with kids 2 years younger than me. I don't have a chance. I keep thinking that I should just drop out and work. I can paint, or draw, or whatever on the side. I don't need to strain my family like this.
My mother, she keeps telling me how hard my father is working to earn enough money. She tells me when I'm alone with her. She tells me all the damn time. I can't take it. I can't stand it. I'm the most expensive thing in this family, and I'm not even worth it. I'm not worth all the effort everyone is putting into me.
If I died
If I went away
My family could be at ease.
My father could rest. Would he?

Last year, I had a hard time getting to my classes, because I couldn't believe I was/am in this school, and I felt like hurting myself to deserve it. I left my classes as soon as they were over, to have time to find a quiet place and make my head still, to make all the noise be still. I'd take deep breaths and hit my legs, until I could stand without tearing up.
I'd make my way back to my next class, the pain tightly bound.
Slowly, I came to realize where the pain came from.
I wished I'd never found out.
I wondered if I could go talk to the counselors, although I wasn't keen on some lady rubbing my arm as I told her my problems.
I read their policy; they'd offer assistance, until/unless it required help from an outside therapists, at which point they'd contact my parents and inform them.
I can't, absolutely can't let my parents know what's happened to me. I absolutely cannot stand to imagine how they'd look at me after that. I can't stand to imagine them holding me over this. I absolutely can't be held over this.
I pushed it to the back of my mind, and told the pain 'Later. Just wait.', every time it decided to come outside. It still hurts, but it won't tell me why. Not that I've had the guts to ask it.

I have a hard time walking from class to class, because I keep getting the terrible urge to lean over the rail. All of my classes were on the 4th floor last semester, can you imagine? I have to keep my eyes forward, and walk as close to the opposite wall as I can. I have to hold on to my classmates if I can't walk by the wall. I just tell them I'm afraid of heights, and they laugh off how tightly I'm grasping their arms.
I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid I'll jump from heights.

But don't worry.
I've carried this pain for years and years. It's just that now I know why I want to end me.
I won't
Kill myself
I'm just going to keep on doing my 'best'. I'll keep studying to put myself above my classmates. I have to work harder than everyone, to show that I'm worth something.

I have to be worth some damn thing. I have to be good at something else
Being used can't be the only thing I'm good at, right?
It can't be.
I'll die if it is
Because no one is using me
Since no one is using me
I'm worthless now, aren't I?
No one seems to want to use me anymore.
I think I've somehow managed to make bad people stay away from me.
Somehow.

Filth

He thrust his hand over my face, knocking me down to the ground. He kept his hand there and started pressing down. His hands... all of him was much larger than me. He was suffocating me.
I could hardly breathe, and the despair that enveloped me when I felt the grime on his palm didn't help. He had his filthy hands on me
On my face
He was touching me with filth
Filling me with filth
I was filthy
I was made filthy
I would never be clean again

Pieces

How can a girl molest another girl?
I thought it was just games
I thought how awesome it was that an older girl wanted to hang out with me.
I felt wrong afterward
I convinced myself that I needed to wash my hands
More
I needed to wash them
The filth away

All of these pieces
I don't know what to do with them
It's hard to understand
How this could be even possible
How could this have even happened?
In the home of one of my mother's friends
Her friend's daughter
To me
On me
I don't...

Nobody noticed
Nobody cared

In the pool
She tipped over a raft
And she told me to swim under
To the air bubble
The water was cold
But her lips were hot
Her lips were always hot

Damn it all
I can feel them now
And there's nothing I can do to make that sensation stop
I can hear
Something
I'd rather not hear
The house is silent
There is nothing to distract me
From all of these feelings
All of these emotions
That make me unwhole
That fill me with a sick warmth
Make them stop
Won't somebody please
Make them go away

Jacob - Not him

My heart, beating hard in my chest. Could he hear it? He must feel it. He didn't care. I didn't dare utter a sound. Like he wanted me to, I was silent. I grimaced as he unclothed my shoulder and kissed it. Before biting into it. I inhaled sharply

"Shh..." I bit my lip to keep a cry in.

Why was this happening to me? His lips brushed the length, from my shoulder, across my collarbone, to the center of my neck. He kissed the hollow, and breathed me in, making his way up. I swallowed, and his lips pressed against me, harder, for an instant. I could feel the tip of his nose, the only part of him that was cold.

I moved my face out of his way. He couldn't have my lips. I didn't want him to kiss me; he wasn't doing anything that I could love him for. And yet, if he was doing this, wasn't it for my own good? He loved me. He'd told me so. He'd shown me. Everyday, he didn't stop until I was safe. And, I was safe.

But not here.

Not alone with him. He wasn't himself. The Other breathed into my ear. My eyes, I held them more tightly shut; I didn't dare look into his eyes. I didn't dare.

Make it stop...

That's not gonna happen.

My clothes came off. Right along with his.

Why...

I fell asleep.

Slept

I don't remember

I can't remember

He won't let me.

He wen't through it for me.

But he won't let me see, what I can't take.

Little

Pieces

Snippets

Nightmares

He gives me

I don't want them

So he keeps them

Until I can see them

Until I can remember

Until I'm ready to remember

Why I can feel his nose and lips running over my skin

Why I know what his hot breath on my face feels like

Why I can feel this

Why can I feel this?