(Untitled)

[kandistarr]

Leave me an anonymous comment pouring your heart out. Say anything. Tell me your stories, your secrets, those things no one ever asks but you wish to tell. Tell me about your love, your hate, your indifference, your joy. Tell me about what's inside of you when you're reading through these entries on your friends list, and tell me why you continue

Comments

[anonymous]

I can never forgive my father for grounding me an entire summer because I told him I got raped and he didn't believe me, saying I was "fucking around and trying to cover for it," which was absolutely untrue (I was a virgin when I was raped) and haven't been able to truly think of him as my father even though this was a long time ago.

And I still get sick to the point of vomiting when I think of a certain girl, and what she did to a dear friend of mine. Sometimes, there is only the strain of a promise to stop me from driving to her house and killing her, or at least fucking her up. I want more than anythying to make her feel even a fraction of the agony she put him through, and I will slit this bitch's throat in from of her own mother if given the chance.

It scares me that I'm still harboring so many of these violent wishes and desires even after all the healing I went through. Maybe this is one of those things you can never outgrow or "recover" from... It scares me, the thoughts that come through at night, and you can't get away from your thoughts the way you cahn shut off a scary movie, and they infect everything else. I don't want more therapy cause it never really help, and I'm afraid I might one day lose whatever self-control I have stretched thin over myself. I'm afraid I'll really hurt someone someday. Moreso, I'm afraid I'll like it and that I'll develop a taste for it.

I just want to be okay. Okay enough to take care of my love the way he takes care of me. I really can't bear thinking all this without letting him know, but he'd be so disappointed in me since we have come through so much and he's gotten so much better (he used to torture small animals and really badly cut himself and had horrifying hallucinations and stuff, but for a year now he's been so much better that it's like two different people) ande it's like, if he could come so far away from all that, why can't I? It's like I'm letting him down and am not pulling my weight. So there's heavy, painful guilt weighing on all these dreams of violence that I cannot ignore, and I see no end in sight, so I smokescreen it through artwork, and I just don't even know what's right anymore.

*harsh sigh*

I feel a little better finally voicing that, even anonymously. See, this way I can't scare you off since you're not sure who I am (but you'll probably guess it anyway. If you do, I truly hope I haven't frightened you off.)