cleopatra

this is it.
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2012-01-12 16:31:21 (UTC)

and as it is, everyone has..

and as it is, everyone has secrets that they prefer to keep secret.. to keep forgotten.
i used to think that problems and issues made me different; special.
i loved having something to make people feel sorry for me, to think i had it worse then them and therefore making me the center, lost soul, mysterious.. stupid.

i used to watch movies and the main character would always have a secret that they would keep, brush off and pretend they didnt know what they ever should mean.
i wondered why they didnt say? i would tell and i would cry on their shoulder and i would let them hold me and try and make things better.

but now, that i have done my time, i see what the world tells young teenage girls. that we are all naive, head strong and stupid. stupid decisions, stupid risks, stupids thoughts, stupid stupid stupid.
i think its that sterio-typing that egged me on to be like it.
i see that yes some are head strong and some are stupid. i was stupid, but i dont think that i can represent all of us teenage fools.

i was desperate for love. i wanted to be special. i wanted to feel special and being loved made me feel what i wanted.
so i closed off any chances of him being evil. he spoke no evil and most defiantly did no evil.
even when he was telling me he had fallen for his ex, even when his ex told me they had fucked, and even when he told me he did not love her, touch her and that he loved me, very much, did i stop and think once.

it was a hard road from there to now.
i lost my family, my friends, my dignity, my future, my pets and myself. i didnt exsist.
the only thing he didnt fully take from me, was my spirit.
its funny how they always say human spirit is the strongest most powerful weapon of all. and how easily we pass off the idea.

he made me beleive i was nothing. that i was always wrong and everytime he would hurt me or strangle me, it was my fault. i shouldnt have gotten him angry. its my fault he doesnt have a job and so he doesnt have money for smokes or weed. i should do this and i should do that.
i do not have the right to not give him sex.

i remember the first time he strangled me.
it was the night before easter. we were sleeping on a single mattress, with broken springs on the floor in the lounge room of his parents house where we lived.
it was late, maybe 2am? he was asleep and i was trying to sleep but woke up cold. he had all the blankets and i was pushed off the bed on the cold floor.
i tried to roll him over but he would not move so i tried to unwrap him from the blanket instead. in this i was softly speaking saying just roll over so i can get some blanket. i was being soft and easing.
he turned over and said what are you doing?! it alarmed me and i said i needed some blanket and that i wa soff the bed. he told me to fuck off and rolled back over with the blankets. i scooted onto the mattress and tried to pry some blanket from under him.
this time he turned around and grabbed me by the throat. he pulled it high so that i was on my knees and he put his face close to mine and said fuck off.
he held me there for a little while longer. staring straight into my eyes without a blink.
he then threw me against the wall and called me a bitch then rolled over.

i sat up on the end of the bed silently crying. i had never been spoken to or treated that way.
he woke up and asked what was wrong. in the end he was crying and telling me he was only asleep and didnt know what he was doing. then he went on about how i should leave him and how he wants to kill himself because of this.

he did that, cry and threaten to kill himself, everytime for a while after he would hurt me. i would never leave him beacsue i coudlnt leave him when i thought he would kill himself.
by 6 months into our 1 1/2 year relationship he didnt bother crying afterwards because he didnt have to.
i would say i was sorry that i had made him angry.
when he wanted sex and i wasnt in the mood, he would hurt me, then cry, then we would fuck as to make up.
he always got his way.

.
.

i was alright when i was at school. i had people with their lives and problems that i could surround myself in. i remember when i first went there to school i loved him and he "loved" me.
then near the end of the year he started to go out with his old mates and drink and smoke weed and get with girls.
scumy friends and even more scum of girls.
and how i started into depression.
he was the only 'friend' i had. i had no one i could talk to. i had no home i could go home to. i had nothing.

i knew he was sneaking behind my back and i saw on his facebook that he was single.
so i asked him and he got angry and threatened me and blah blah so i dropped it. i then went into his facebook and read his messages.
he was telling all these girls, hey im single yay! finally got away from that pyscho bitch (his ex girlfriend/wife/mother of his kids was a none slut of the city. no body knew about me)
so i told him i knew and blah blah. he hurt me i shut my mouth.

i remember one day he left at 10am telling me he will be home at 1pm to give me some weed (of course i was doing weed hard. it was the only way i could cope. all pain disapeared along with life)
and he never came. i laid on that bed with the curtains drawn and door locked and didnt move until 2am that night when he came home without weed, stoned and went to sleep.
then he left again the next morning and did the same. i didnt move once again.
this happened for 3 days. i stared at the roof in the dark. i didnt eat until he came home. i didnt leave the room till he came home. i didnt exsist until he came home.
on the fourth day his mum came in and asked what was wrong. i broke down and told her he had broken up with me and was out with other girls.
she told me to come out of the room and have some dinner and watch some tv and talk to the family. "get out of this room. it'd make you depressed staying in here like this"
and i got a little bit better. his little brother (two years older then me) became my best friend. i got a job as a chef.

robbie, his little brother, was so good to me. i would go up and watch tv with him in his room and laugh and wrestle.
and as soon as i thought i heard ians car come home, i would get up straight away and go downstairs and sit in the room till he came. i never told him about me hanging with robbie bcoz i was too scared he would tell me i wasnt alowed to anymore.

and i remeber one time, after ian had strangled me till my body was burning and the room was going dark and till my lounges felt as if they were bleeding. he let me go then held me by the hair and smashed my face repeatdly into the bed, which i was greatful for bcoz it didnt hurt and i could breathe. i was begging him to stop and crying (the walls were so thin in this house. robbies room was directly above ours. you could hear him sneeze, laugh, roll over or cough. i could lay on my bed with my eyes closed and listen to his tv going and watch it i could hear so clearly)
and i later went up to robbies room after ian had left and we sat and enjoyed our time. i thought i heard ians car and raced down. it wasnt him and i knew that he wouldnt come home again tonight so i went back up and awkwardly said false alarm.
he said, "your not allowed up here are ya?" but he said it after he had said something funny and i was still laughing. i freezed up and brushed it off and said "whhaa.. uhh nooo.. hahaha thats funny as blah blah"
he also said that night "coz he hits ya" and i wasnt sure if he had said that coz he was looking at the tv and i brushed it off again.

a few people have asked if he hurt me. i would always say no. but now i wonder why i protect him.
the man that left his wife, mother of his children the night before the wedding and tried to fuck me. then on the wedding day, after she was all beautiful just didnt show and ran down and hid behind me (i had no idea of this)
then forced a young girl to love him.

now i have told two people. my old beat friend who has taken me back and forgave me, and a random guy that was my re-bound guy. who i will probably never speak to again.

ian still haunts me though. i still find myself thinking of the anger and pain and relive scenes. its been nearly 7 months and when i think he is gone, i am quickly reminded. i just wish for him to dissapear. his death would bring me happiness. i just do not feel free. i feel scared. i hate myself for letting him.

my heart is cold. another way i learnt to cope was to imagine a iron case was bolted around my heart. i beleived if i let nothing touch my heart, then it wouldnt hurt me. psyical pain meant nothing. i was sick of the heart ache i would feel everytime. the betrayal.
and it worked. everytime he was nice i ignored it and so when he turned ( as he did almost every night) it would not hurt me.

and the case has not been lifted off yet. i have not allowed it.

i manually decide what i let into my heart. i have a new boyfriend who is so wonderful and amazing, but i just dont love him the way i should. i dont trust it yet. i am too scared to let him all the way in. ian was amazing and wonderful at the start too. so i dont trust myself to know the signs of when enough is enough.
i can not bear to go through what i did again.
its left a imprint so deep it scares me bcoz of that alone.


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