whatever.
today is the 19th. today is six months.
today means that i am 19.5 years old. today means that it has been exactly six months.
i think i am numb. i am typing like i am numb.
this calm face i'm making is a lie. one of my roommates is lying on a bed across from me, and i'm making a straight face. pleasant, even. she doesn't know. she doesn't know. nobody knows. i can't tell anyone, it's been too long. and even if i said something now, she would call me a liar. they would all call me a liar.
that is all i am these days. a liar.
and i'm scared for school to start back up. i failed all of my classes last semester. i stayed inside my apartment and took shower after shower and i failed all of my classes and here school is going to start again. i don't think i can do this anymore. i need help. i need real, physical help. i can't move be anywhere around anyone with alcohol without thinking about it.
it.
that stupid freaking ominous word, like it controls me. like it owns me. and i'm letting it. i really am. every time i throw up, every nightmare, every single tear i cry, i let it own me. i know that so many other people have gone through the same screwed up shit. and they survived. they throw on their faces full of pain and whatever and call themselves survivors. but i don't think i can. i don't think i can.
what if i run into one of them at school? i should drop out. i should not go back. what if i run into one of them? this isn't fair. none of it is fair. ashley should have never thrown that party. i should have never agreed to it -- i had a test the next morning -- what the hell was i thinking in the first place? oh, but it was my 19th birthday. and i was in college, and woo fucking hoo, i can do whatever the hell i want now.
and i fucking screwed my life up. i screwed shit up. i went and there they were, innocent as they could fucking be, dancing to the music at my party, drinking the shit my friends provided. i don't even fucking drink. and he put his dick in my mouth while the other one knocked himself against my hair until he let all his shit out in it. and hours and hours of them fucking and pissing and fucking hurting me and at one point i was crying and J said, mama needs a little relief, B. and i thought that they were done - 3:55 a.m. - and i clenched a shoe i found on the ground to my stomach and i tried to breathe a little, just breathe a little, i kept telling myself. i was hyperventilating. i always hyperventilate when i'm hurting. and B pushed me onto my back and he put his fingers inside and his tongue against me and J sat above my head and licked my neck and my stomach and my breasts and B kept saying, come on mama, come on mama, show me how good you feel, livia, come on, come on. and my stomach started to cramp and i could breathe and i said B i can't breathe and then he kind of slumped to the floor by my thigh. and he was laughing. and he kept saying out loud, J check out this bitch. check out this bitch. this bitch came hard. this bitch came hard. and then J got up and passed out on ashleys bed.
i went home and i skipped class the next day and the next day and the next fucking day until i failed all of my classes.
and fucking ashley. fucking ashley kept coming over and she was like, what the holy fuck is wrong with you these days? and i tried to tell her. i tried to tell her. but she was pissed that i skipped most of the party.
this is too much.
i think that this is too much.
and i'm part of that stupid survivors community. but i'm not a survivor. i'm not. i'm a fucking nasty cunt liar. maybe i'm a liar. i should have said something to somebody then. i should have. and now im just stupid. and now i can't make it. and i'm posting on some online journal like it's going to fix shit, but everything is so screwed up. and i can't make it. i don't know how i'm going to make it. i need some god damn help.
today means that i am 19.5 years old. today means that it has been exactly six months.
i think i am numb. i am typing like i am numb.
this calm face i'm making is a lie. one of my roommates is lying on a bed across from me, and i'm making a straight face. pleasant, even. she doesn't know. she doesn't know. nobody knows. i can't tell anyone, it's been too long. and even if i said something now, she would call me a liar. they would all call me a liar.
that is all i am these days. a liar.
and i'm scared for school to start back up. i failed all of my classes last semester. i stayed inside my apartment and took shower after shower and i failed all of my classes and here school is going to start again. i don't think i can do this anymore. i need help. i need real, physical help. i can't move be anywhere around anyone with alcohol without thinking about it.
it.
that stupid freaking ominous word, like it controls me. like it owns me. and i'm letting it. i really am. every time i throw up, every nightmare, every single tear i cry, i let it own me. i know that so many other people have gone through the same screwed up shit. and they survived. they throw on their faces full of pain and whatever and call themselves survivors. but i don't think i can. i don't think i can.
what if i run into one of them at school? i should drop out. i should not go back. what if i run into one of them? this isn't fair. none of it is fair. ashley should have never thrown that party. i should have never agreed to it -- i had a test the next morning -- what the hell was i thinking in the first place? oh, but it was my 19th birthday. and i was in college, and woo fucking hoo, i can do whatever the hell i want now.
and i fucking screwed my life up. i screwed shit up. i went and there they were, innocent as they could fucking be, dancing to the music at my party, drinking the shit my friends provided. i don't even fucking drink. and he put his dick in my mouth while the other one knocked himself against my hair until he let all his shit out in it. and hours and hours of them fucking and pissing and fucking hurting me and at one point i was crying and J said, mama needs a little relief, B. and i thought that they were done - 3:55 a.m. - and i clenched a shoe i found on the ground to my stomach and i tried to breathe a little, just breathe a little, i kept telling myself. i was hyperventilating. i always hyperventilate when i'm hurting. and B pushed me onto my back and he put his fingers inside and his tongue against me and J sat above my head and licked my neck and my stomach and my breasts and B kept saying, come on mama, come on mama, show me how good you feel, livia, come on, come on. and my stomach started to cramp and i could breathe and i said B i can't breathe and then he kind of slumped to the floor by my thigh. and he was laughing. and he kept saying out loud, J check out this bitch. check out this bitch. this bitch came hard. this bitch came hard. and then J got up and passed out on ashleys bed.
i went home and i skipped class the next day and the next day and the next fucking day until i failed all of my classes.
and fucking ashley. fucking ashley kept coming over and she was like, what the holy fuck is wrong with you these days? and i tried to tell her. i tried to tell her. but she was pissed that i skipped most of the party.
this is too much.
i think that this is too much.
and i'm part of that stupid survivors community. but i'm not a survivor. i'm not. i'm a fucking nasty cunt liar. maybe i'm a liar. i should have said something to somebody then. i should have. and now im just stupid. and now i can't make it. and i'm posting on some online journal like it's going to fix shit, but everything is so screwed up. and i can't make it. i don't know how i'm going to make it. i need some god damn help.