Myself, As a Whole
I had another account on LJ, once. Around two years ago, I was immensely frustrated. I had issues with guys because I was molested as a little girl. The sexuality thing became an issue. (Of course, now, I realize I'm really just a flaming bisexual. Guys are hot. Girls are possibly a little hotter. Still, I'm attracted to both.)
This is something I wrote back then. I had just turned fifteen.
-o-Under the guise of a different name...
Meet my friend.
She has just turned fifteen, has just encountered one of the first people to ever tell her they love her.
She is confused, this girl, with her brown eyes and dark blonde hair, because she isn't sure what she wants is what's best for her.
She isn't sure that by wanting this, whatever it may be, she'll be doing the right thing.
Because this thing could ruin two lives, ruin them so utterly and so completely that it would be impossible to make them right again.
She also fights with her mother a lot, this girl.
They are different, yet the same in ways that they cannot explain, and do not cherish.
They should, but they don't, and they can't stop it.
She is bothered by these fights. Immensely. They hurt her so much that it should be illegal.
They're about stupid things, really, and things that should be left unsaid are said, and things never end the way she wants them to.
Her mother loves her, she really does, but this girl is too lost in her own world to care.
Let's call her Taylor.
She has many friends, so many she can barely count them, but she is not happy. She is alien to the world others live in, too consumed by her demons to understand that people truly care about her, that she is not alone in her existence. Things that should never happen to a little girl have happened to her and she doesn't realize that it wasn't her fault.
She never asked for anything to happen.
But sometimes she thinks that maybe it was a good thing.
That maybe, just maybe, things were meant to happen that way. Because if they hadn't, what kind of person would she be now? Who would she be if that boy hadn't touched her? And she wonders if she is wrong to think that maybe she'd rather have been abused and ended up this way than not have been abused and face an uncertain future.
Her name is Taylor. Say hello.
-o-
Comparing it to my writing style now, it's fairly immature. Still...it's painful to read. Check this other one out.
-o-
Taylor has this friend who's really very twisted.
Her friend is just like she is, right down to her appearance. Her every word resounds in Taylor's head like a gunshot. Sometimes they make old wounds bleed. Constantly, they make her want to break down until there's nothing more to see.
Taylor doesn't know what to do with her friend. She doesn't want her there anymore. She doesn't want to listen to words that will make everything hurt again. She knows she should be a little more understanding. But her friend is ruthless. Terrible. Outspoken.
Bleeding lips brushing against raw ears.
Her mind is already swirling with images that make everything spin. She is dizzy. She finds it hard to breathe.
'Stop it.' she thinks, but the voices do not cease.
It's all her friend's fault, but the other will not stop.
And Taylor knows she has to do something, because if not she will go crazy.
But how, she wonders, can you stop someone that's always been inside your head?
-o-
Yeah, I'm a little messed up. I was feeling nostalgic, but at the same time, cynical. Now I just feel nauseous.
At least I'm thinking of studying psychology. *smiles wryly* Later.