sometimes now i question whether you sold her to a nice family.. or if she was really for something elses
i hardly got to see her and i doesnt even know none about her :(
im sorry i maked her byebyes
and is real sorry for even thinks she maybe didnt goes to nice family
i wishes could has meeted them.
so this message bes for whoevers gots her.. and hopes the title of this thread isnt fits you any. and i hopes you loves each other and bes lots happy
Sing me to sleep.
I'll see you in my dreams.
Waiting to say.
I miss you.
I'm so sorry.
The following content has been hidden - Reason : triggering content
you are five years older than me, and now, as adults, you say you have no recollection of your childhood.
Well I only get flashbacks of my childhood.... to when you would show me pornographic magazines and make me, my brother and your sister carry out the actions in said porno mags.
I can still feel you on me from the first time.
From when you told me to lift my night shirt up and bend over. How you were hard and pushing against me. You vucking pervert.
You ruined me.
You ruined my perception of intimacies and boundaries.
D'you know I tried to kiss my other cousin from Canada when I was 15 years old because I thought it was acceptable to do that??? I felt such a freak when he pushed me away with disgust.
You taught me that.
You made it acceptable for my brother to give me oral sex. Well, it wasn't oral sex as you and i might know it now, but he had his mouth on me . That isn't normaly for a sisister and brother to do that. How would we have known to do that if you hadn't shown us the pornographic magazine and if you hadn't done it already to me.
I feel sick.
I can't remember the other stuff you did. It's still a blocked out memory but I am sure there is more.
You may be mentally ill now, but that was no excuse for you doing all that to me and my broher and your sister.
You are sick. It is no wonder you odn't remember your freakish childhood.. probably because deep down you are so sickened by what you did.
rot in hell S. rot in f*cking hell ...
She said I don't need to hate anyone, I feel like I do. I need to hate someone so I don't hate myself; I need to hate someone to share the burden. I want to hate 'him' for what he did but I never have been able to. Fear takes over. I fear him, I am scared of him but I don't hate him. I don't want to waste emotion on him, he means nothing to me. But I hate my Mum, I don't think I hate her because of what happened, I hated her before that. I hated her for the way she raised us, for the way she treated me, for the person she is. My friends say it's sad that I hate her, I don't care. They don't know her.
'It's not fair that you're treating me this way, if I'd known what was going on I would have stopped it'.
Fair? Don't you dare talk to me about fair. It wasn't fair that he hurt me, that he voilated me. It's not fair that that one night affects everything I do and probably always will. It's not fair that I am scared to trust people or let them get close. It's not fair that I can't cry, it's not fair that I am constanly angry. It is not fair that I hate myself. You wanna talk about fair, don't. The way I treat you may not be very nice but don't you dare talk to me about 'fair' cause none of this is fair. None of this is fair.
'But you're punishing me, and it's working, so keep going. Keep punishing me for something I had no control over'.
You don't understand, you don't really don't have a clue do you? I hate you, I blame you for what happened. You sent us there, if you had cared enough to raise us yourself none of this would have happened, so it is your fault. You have no idea of the pain I go through everyday; the anger, the pain, the hurt. For so long I have been so desperate for someone to understand how I feel, I can't explain it to you, I can't tell you what happened and you suddenly understand, so I am showing you. I treat you the way I do so you'll feel the hurt and the pain I feel everyday. Because then maybe you'll understand.
'In life only one thing is certain, besides death and taxes... No matter how hard we try, No matter how good our intentions, We are going to make mistakes. We are going to hurt people. We are going to get hurt. And if you're ever going to recover, There's only one thing to say. Forgive and forget. That's what they say. It's good advice, but it's not very practical. When someone hurts us, We want to hurt them back. When someone wrongs us, We want to be right. Without forgiveness, nothing is ever settled. Hurts never heal. And the most we can hope for... Is to forget.'
'I want to hurt someone till they hurt like I do, I want to pound them into the floor till they understand how I feel everyday, I want to hurt them cause then they'll understand how hard it is to be me'.
I think you'll be the only person I'll ever hate all my life
You used to be fine but then again I could have just been young and naive and not known what was going on
But then I got older, had my own opinions, made my own desicions, lived my life, had my OWN money and everything changed
Or maybe it was my sister that changed everything
Maybe the fact that she was your own kid, you hadn't taken her on, you didn't have anyone else to compete with for unconditional love
Whatever the case I hate what you did to me
I hate how I'm scared of people having a go at me for the slightest thing, spilling a drink, breaking a glass, spending my money, whatever
It wasn't just me you did everything to though, was it?
I'm not surprised my brother retaliated when you were being a **** to him
And what did you do?
You didn't apologise
You just carried it on
And mum only found out a couple of years ago cos we were too scared to tell her before, we were even too scared to ******* stick up for her, it was ALWAYS your side we had to take and to this day I feel harsh for my mum, I feel like for 12 years at least, I was a crap daughter and now and the rest of my life I can see myself trying to make up for it
The following content has been hidden - Reason : possibly triggering
I will never forget when you pulled my hair
When you slapped me across the face just cos I couldn't remember what I spent all my money on
The fact I ran away for a week cos you threatened to kick the **** out of me, resulting in me living in a refuge for a week
The only reason I came back was for mum and my sister cos they were so upset
And then when I came back and my throat was so bad I couldn't eat or talk and I wrote down I didn't want dinner but you cooked it cos I didn't SAY it and made me eat it
How you used to ALWAYS make cabbage and peas and every other ******* thing I didn't like and then force me to eat it, or say that I could have pudding when I finished and not actually give me anything even after I'd forced every last bit into my mouth, EVERY LAST HORRIBLE ******* MOUTHFUL!!!!!!!!!
And then you always compare me to my brother and sister, cos I'm not working or in college and they are
Well maybe, just maybe their heads aren't so ******* up after what you did
I know mine is and to be honest I think it's past fixing
Every single thing you did has had a lasting effect on me and it will stay with me forever
Just so you know, I'm on the sick now cos my head is too messed up for me to even consider getting a job or going to college cos I know the day will come when I'm too depressed to go in and I won't
So thank you for everything
You call yourself a father but like they say, it takes a dick to make a baby but a man to be a father, shame you're not a man
I hate you so much and I think I meant it when I said I wished you were dead
I don't care what kills you first, the cancer or the drinking cos now, you're nothing to me
I may not have someone I can actually call 'Dad' but my new stepdad is the closest I have to someone I can call 'Dad' and he's infintely better than you'll ever be
Cos all you are is a sad old man, who makes a living driving buses, sleeping on his sister's sofa and apparently about to marry some 30 year old, who in case you've forgotten is also mentally challenged (Sorry everyone if it sounds un-PC it's not sposed to)
I don't know who I feel more sorry for, you, cos you can only get with people who don't know entirely what they're doing and have an altered view of life, or her, for wanting to marry you in the first place
Either way, I hope you have fun playing happy families and messing up her little girl's head like you did to me and my brother and more than likely doing to my sister now
Oh yeah, another thing, I KNOW the reason my sister isn't talking to me anymore for no reason is cos of you and I hope you're happy cos she was one of the very few people that I was close to and I hate you for taking that away from me!!!!!!!
And I bet when she realises what you're doing, she'll come running back like and I don't know if I could have that same relationship with her again like I used to and that's because YOU ruined it!!!!!!
And even though I'm not doing anything much with my life at the moment I am doing EVERYTHING I can to get better and then I'll be doing stuff with my life while you live a sad existence, wondering why the people who you call your kids don't love you anymore and don't want to know you and I hope you spend every ******* night thinking about your actions and the consequences of them
I hate you with everything I have and I'm not usually the type of person to hold a grudge anymore but for you, I'll make an exception
I hope you enjoy the rest of your life cos you've left me without the ability to fully enjoy mine!!
I May Be Going Broke But I'm Never Broken Down
Less Than Jake <3
16.06.10 - The Day He Saved My Life
Love You Baban
Some of you are close to me still. Some are not. That doesn't matter, because what you all did to me (in separate, but equally damaging ways) is locked up tight in my fragmented mind.
You see, when you did those things to me, it was too much for my brain to handle. I was too young, I was already overwhelmed by existing trauma, it was unexpected, whatever. The pain and horror was too much. So I split off a part of myself, and she became responsible for holding all of the grief, anger, sadness, pain, and terror.
This may sound like I have multiple personalities; I don't. She is really me, I just refer to her that way for simplicities' sake. But she is definitely separate. She stays locked up tight, angry and sad and hurt and bitter. I have named her Black. The main part that everyone sees is named White. She is me without the trauma: Anxious but happy, kind, caring, compassionate. There is a clear boundary, a no-man's-land, between Black and White.
But Black hates the pain, and you can imagine why. All she wants is to get away from it for a second, and be in control. So she occasionally breaks away from the restraints I put on her and leaks into White, coloring my days with intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, memories, emotions. To deal with it, she whispers sweet words of calories, diet pills, cuts and scars. Until I can't take it anymore and together with White I wrestle her back into her prison, back into the chains. She lays there, defeated and hating me, until she can get free again. Her eyes tell me, "I'll be back. It might be months, weeks. I might be tomorrow. But I'll be back. You can't keep running. You can't keep me locked up here forever."
"I can, and I WILL!" I scream at her, slamming the door and triple-locking it.
For years, Black and White had very different voices. White's was my own you hear when I speak out loud. Soft, feminine, sweet. Black's was gravelly, masculine, and scary. I thought Black was just my eating disorder voice, and I hated her nearly as much she hated me.
But then one day (and I can't remember exactly what triggered it), she spoke to me in her voice, which is very similar to White's, but ragged and raspy with her suffering. I realized she was hurting so much, and I cried for her. For a moment, she didn't hate me. I finally acknowledged her for who she was.
But it wasn't enough. She still carried the terrible things that had happened to all of us, and I still couldn't stand the pain. To even glance into the walls of her mental prison makes me recoil with horror.
I may have many scars on my outer body, but they're nothing compared to what Black has on her. They are only from when the pain bubbled over so much it had to get out of my head or risk...I don't know what. Something horrible.
By telling you all of this, I want you to know: You did this. To her. To me. You made Black's existence miserable. That you even made it necessary is appalling.
No matter how much I might dislike her, flinch away from her, she is still a part of me. And she never should have been. I should be a whole, happy person. But I'm not.
And it's your fault.
Can you live with that?
My name is Matt, and I am a boy. Feel free to PM me :)
I have learned that the world is not a safe place. Not at all. But there are so many people who love me and want to keep me safe. And that is enough.
I'm sorry, the chance to write letters and everything that's been going on with me lately have kind of opened Pandora's Box.
I hate you. I am only using you because that's what you seem to be built for and that's all you deserve after what you did to me. I tell myself I love you and I go to the hospital where you were sneakily in order not to have you worried about my exams, but deep down I hate your guts and I hope you die. You can die in your sleep, but preferably from something you choke in. Please don't get an asthma attack. It would leave dad traumatised.
Suddenly I am having this romantic image. What my grandpa last heard of his wife: the doctor's telephone number. "I love you": no. A telephone number. He died in 2004. I wonder if he still remembered that number on his deathbed. The romantic image, of course, would be YOU saying that you love my dad and then die. Please don't do that unless you get to turn human a little. I ahte you so ****ing much.
Since Tom is not that interested in art and stuff like that, I'm not taking him to the exposition. I wish I had gone alone.
It is your fault that I lost my ability to have sexual (or any kind of physical) feelings unless something life-threatening is going on (such as a bladder stuffing itself. Holding that in can cost you your kidneys, you know. Abe Simpson almost died of that.) It is your fault that I am afraid to show orgasms, it is your fault that I didn't get the chance to discover my own body on my own. You had to do it along with me. I hate you, bitch.
I hope you die. I seriously do.
Wait, whut? No I don't, You're my mother for ****s sake. Act like it. That's all you need to do. Don't ignore me, keep your hands off and try, at least TRY to get my dad to talk to me again. I don't know what's wrong with him anyways.
Jo (Newlife) is my daughter
Kat (Katnovia) is my sister
long time to do this to say this but now i have to you destroyed this little girl the one that always loved having fun and being around people and you made her something dont think you now what you did to me cause i am not her anymore just lattly she has been cry out for help to be free but you still have not let go of her she is still scared of you scared to tell the truth you cant even tell my mom to let her belive in me you have been lieing about this to long can i ask you can i ever trust you again can i trust you not to make you want to kill you will you please just leave my kid out of this i will forever be your victom if you leave her alone one big thing is why me do you not get that i cant take your pain and my own
why did you do this why are you hurting me do you remiber how young i was when you started playing baribes as you would say and then it just went to you comeing home for the sumers and my hole life being scared that i would see you that i would have to go throw it all again i still rember the first time and all the others you had me so confused that its what i wanted but do you reamber when i was 12 and i finaly said no
i do and i still feel sick that i could never say it befor then
i'm just empty inside. you've ruined me.
and still scared that i'd let you do it again
what i remember and what i don't remember.
you ruined me. how could you ruin your own little girl?
nobody knows everything.
they think they do, but they don't.
mum doesn't even know.
shameful. loved you so much daddy.
and you. i don't even know your name.
i went to the ****ing park.
i didn't do anything, i didn't set out for that..
i didn't ask for it.
few weeks after my 15th birthday
pregnancy tests, slag. ****ing hell.
edited because i wrote way too much.
Last edited by Katey. : 12-02-2011 at 04:02 PM.
that's because i have a bad mind, & i have gold in my veins, but he says that i got the purest heart, that he's ever seen ♥
If I could go back five years and two months, but still have my son, I would. I would never have taken your number, would never have dated you, would never have let you destroy me.
Hell, you couldn't even call me Kim. And now, my name doesn't fit me. Because you took my identity away with every insult, every slap, every time you grabbed me by the throat, every accusation, every death threat, and every time you used my baby to try to hurt me in one way or another, every time you blackmailed me into sleeping with you. You killed Kim. I'm not sure who I am now.
He's not YOUR baby, and if you want access, I'll drag you through the courts. I'll have your alcohol levels tested, I'll ask neighbours if there've been any such incidents since I left, I'll get statements from your ex, I'll call up previous police statements, I'll call up social services from those visits, the health visitors who saw what you were doing to me emotionally. And yet I know my family will side with you, because "you have a right to see your son". He stopped being your son the day you threw a table leg at me knowing I was three months pregnant. If there's any further doubt, then you DEFINITELY lost all rights to call him your son when you threatened to punch me in the stomach when I was six months pregnant. When I had to block that blow. I wasn't trying to save myself. I was trying to save him. And now I have. He's safe now, and happy, and I'll protect him until the day I'm dead.
I won't let you destroy me completely. I might not ever go back to being Kim in my mind. But one day, I'll stop hurting. That knot in my stomach evverytime the door knocks will go away, the suicidal urges will fade. I'll stop being scared of love. I'll stop being scared of silence, and being scared of sleep. It might be tomorrow, or it might be fifty years on. But I'll heal one day. Now, please **** off and die. You promised me that, eleven months ago. Can't you hurry up and fulfil your promises?
I couldn't say it before, but I'll say it now... I do hate you after all.
You know what? It might hurt what you did to me, but what you nearly did to him... Well, it kills me. I live everything over in my mind, but it's when you went to punch me in the stomach, when he was six months pregnant, that destroys me. It's the sound of him screaming while you held him in your arms while you assaulted me that drowns out every sound that meets my ears. I'm afraid of letting anyone else into my life, because I daren't let anyone near him.
What do I tell him? Ten years from now, when he asks about you, what do I tell him? If he wants to see you, how do I deal with that? If he asks what you did, what do I tell him? I'd prefer it if you died, before things came up about who or where you are. Because that's easier to deal with. He can't grieve for someone he doesn't know, but I'm scared he'll grieve for what you did to us both.
A thousand mile journey starts with the first step
Join Date: Oct 2009
I am currently:
You've ruined my life. I don't know how to trust anymore. You're my family, but I really wish you weren't. It might make me understand how you could make me do the things you did to me. I don't think you thought it was wrong at the time... You're 6 months older than me, it's just sick. I didn't understand at the time.
Now I realise it was wrong. And disgusting.
I feel disgusted at myself for letting you do that... If I said no, you used to emotionally bully me and say horrible things. Luckily for me, I've blocked that part out and I don't remember it. Unfortunately, for about 6 or 7 years of my life, I have about 5 memories for that entire time.
I'm now awkward in intimate situations, I literally have panic attacks every time someone gets close to touching me.
And my LOVELY ex, you were the first person I had sex with, and you abused that. I thought I could trust you, I thought you loved me... but you destroyed the last bit of faith in love that I had left. You knew how unstable I was, and how young-minded I was, yet for those very reasons you decided to dump me. And not only that, you took it upon yourself to physically abuse me every day for a month or two after we broke up.
I remember the pain you gave me. The bruises, the shame I felt, having to wear t-shirts so no one would ask me where I got the bruises from that were at the top of my arm.
You said, "It's not my fault you bruise like a banana."
We both know that wasn't true, seeing as you left a knuckle imprint on my arm.
Then for the last one and a half years, you've been pestering me for sex. I've given in a few times, cos I was naive enough to think that you maybe loved me again and that we could get back together.
I was wrong.
After we had sex, you got a girlfriend in the space of two days. And then told me that I should be pleased that someone was choosing me over their girlfriend.
I wish both of you would get out my life, and I wish that you never did to me what you did...
Gran tells me that you are starting councelling and that you have finally admitted that you have an alcohol problem. so now what? Am I meant to forgive everything just because you have admitted that things are wrong.
I can't... I'm sory but I can't. How can I forgive you when I can't even remember what you did??? All I remember is you locking me outside, pouring water over me and attacking me. You tried to kill me for gods sake, and I'm meant to just forget that???
One day I want to look you in the eye and describe to you what you did to me. I don't want you to deny it, to aggressively hiss that it is all in my mind and I'm making it up. It angers me that you think you can get away with that. My memories are not false or lies or a deceitful pleasure. I am starting to wonder if I'm not over-reacting or attention-seeking- and that has been a long, painful road for me to travel down.
I think my overdose, the only one you know about, helped you see the error of you ways- though you didn't see mine. Now you come up to me and ask for hugs, making sure I'm alright... when you are not launching yourself into all those other things that matter so much more. I remember so many things that just make me hurt. I remember hiding in my wardrobe, you finding me and throwing me across the room. I remember being chased around the kitchen by you, stick in hand. I remember looking up at you, towering and looming above me, instructing me to... to... I can't even say it. Sometimes I simply feel anger and animosity towards you for locking me inside of myself and throwing away the key.
No, I wasn't perfect as a child and I am far from perfect now. I just wonder why the hell you wanted me to be. Who on this Earth is actually perfect? No one. There is a saying; 'you are loved for your imperfections' but then, maybe you just didn't want me to be loved. I know that you have contributed to my under-confidence and my low, low self-opinion but really, to sabotage me that way as well. You turned me against myself and I do not thank you for that. It is something I am fighting this very minute. It is something I don't think I can ever forgive you or myself for.
Thank you, thank you for giving me such a fantastic childhood I'll never forget it.
I don't really know what to say to you. I can't get my head around what you did to me. I was too young. too innocent to understand. Sometimes I really really hate you, you stole from me everything I had. You thief. You stinking rotten thief.
The following content has been hidden - Reason : ADULT/GRAPHIC/TRIGGERING(sexual abuse)/SWEARING
Sometimes I feel sorry for you, because you really must have been ill to think it was alright to do those things to a child. Then I start to remember every time you touched me and I feel the anger and hatred boiling back inside me again. You make me feel sick. Do you know what is worse? I make me feel sick, and it's because of you. You taught me things I didn't need to know. You ruined every part of me and now you're dead and it's not fair because i'm still living with what you did. Was it good for you? Did you get everything you needed from the poor little girl next door? Was she good enough for you? Did she behave well enough for you. I hate you. I ****ing hate you.
Then the anger dies again and I start to wonder what the hell led you to start doing those things to me? Was I the first? the last? I ****ing wish I'd told somebody because now I will never know. I feel so damn guilty for not telling and it's your fault. What about little charlotte? What did you do to her? from the look on her face that day I saw her standing at the gate I dont even want to begin to hazard a guess. I hope to God that you didn't hurt her. Your own grandchild. Then again I think maybe you were sick enough to do so.
You know what? I don't remember you grooming me, you must of done I guess, but I can't see it. All I can see when I look back is you. Your face. Your filthy hands and your horrid tar stained, bony, shaking fingers. The image makes me shudder to this day. I try to push you out of my mind, but you are there when I least expect it. You could have at least washed your ****ing hands before touching me. you ****ing bastard. how could you? Did you not even stop to think of what damage you were doing me? I can't even smell cigerette smoke without buckling inside. You make me wretch. The things you did to me make me wretch. And why? why did you do them? You said you loved me. I loved you too. I innocently loved you, you were my new granddad. I trusted you, I loved you and jess dearly, so dearly, and you ruined that. You ruined love for me. You took something so precious and special and you twisted it for your own needs and made it dirty and disgusting. You made me hate myself, you made me destroy the few strands of life you left in me. I hate you. I hate you for waking up the monster inside me. I am ashamed to face what you did to me because then I rememmber how you controlled my life even when you wern't there touching me. You turned me into a sex-craved slut at 10 years old. You pervert. You sick and twisted pervert.
What was the problem? Why did you need me for sex? Why couldn't you turn to your wife? was she too old to give you what you needed? well maybe that should have been a clue to you that you were too old to be looking for it? Oh well the hell couldn't you have just satisfied yourself and not turn to me? Why? You know, I could have forgiven you if you hadn't finally raped me. If you didn't sink to those low depths I might have had some strength left to fight the destruction you caused. But you took that too. You took my innocence, my virginity, my sanity, my desire, my sense of self preservation, my pride, my courage and my soul and you tore them to shreds with your lies and dirty games. I can't even look at your house without remembering all you did to me. I avoid the side of the road where we washed your car because it hurts to much to see it parked there in my minds eye.
All i ever wanted to be was good and helpful and you used that. you ****ing used that. There are no excuses for what you did to me, and for me there will never be any release because I can never face up to you and tell you what you did to me. You died a horrible lonely death and i'm ****ing glad. I shouldn't be, but I am. And because of you I struggle with my faith. Because of you I can't move on with God, because I can't ****ing forgive you. I can't ask you why, I can't show you the scars and ask you why you had to destroy that pretty little child. All i have are the years of memories, the pain and the tears and I will never ever know why you did that. Why you had to use jess's heart condition to scare me into doing things with you.
You horrid sick perverted man. I'm glad you died alone, I'm glad that you were frightened and lonely, that no-one was there to make it better. You ****ing deserved it. Even your death brings me guilt because I know I shouldn't feel this way, it's not right. But because you took so much I just dont think I can forgive you. I can't bring myself to forgive you because forgiving you makes me feel so ****ing dirty and sick. if i forgive you, then i am to blame, i am guilty. and I'm not. I refuse to believe that I wanted it. You wanted me to feel that way and you know what, for nearly those four years of my life and the 12 years that have passed since it worked. But not any more. Now I know that it was your fault. That you were the sick one. That you just took me and used me until I broke.
You know what? even though it's completely un-christian of me, I hope you a ****ing rotting in hell. I hope you are suffering half as much as I did. I hate you. You stop me being the Christian I should be. You hold me back. You make my life harder than it needs to be. You left me with eating disorders, nightmares and flashbacks. You made me vunerable and set me up as easy prey for others like you. It's your fault that I was so weak in later years. Your ****ing fault that I couldn't fight back when others took advantage of the messed up kid. I locked myself away inside myself for so long that even I dont really know who I am. I didn't even know you'd raped me until 2 or 3 years ago, you did such a ****ing good job of destroying me that I couldn't ****ing remember.
Well no more nasty surprises now. You are dead, and somewhere deep down inside so I am. There, I've given you what you wanted. I gave you all the attention and energy I have, and now I'm going to go back to re-building my life, to attempting to fix my shattered hopes and dreams of ever being a good Christian wife and mother, because every day I have to fight with trying to learn to stop hating you and forgive you.
One day I will win.
You are talking to: Kat The Others are: Annabell (Belle), Rosie, Lotty, Kate, Amy, Jessica (Jess), Sarah, Ramiel(Miel), Elizabeth (Liz), Shadow