Caring About Pricks

I haven't done anything in a while.


So, let me start like this:


I had one very good week where I felt happy. Happy to be doing things with people, like I didn't want to curl up and die every day. A calm sense of rightness that enabled me to function well and experience the ups.

The past week has been leading up to the current meltdown.

I don't know why, but I've been thinking a lot about my abortion lately. I haven't been able to write anything since it happened. The entire horrible experience was very life altering for me. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret the decision I made to save my future and wait to have a family until I am financially and emotionally ready. Or more ready than I am now, at least.
I also really just did not want to have a child with the person who impregnated me. I can't imagine having to deal with a boy who needs raised on top of having a child. It's not a job I'm up for.
I promise my breakout abortion drama will be much more poetic and eloquent, but this is all I'm capable of right now.

In other news, some deuchebag that will not be named blamed me for my own fragile sense of well being and lack of trust in people.

I'm sorry, but after having my fiancee rape me and utilize methods of prolonged psychological abuse (isolation, threats of violence/intimidation, verbal abuse, constant manipulation, etc); after having been molested the first time by a boy my own age when I was seven; after having been cheated on, used, manipulated, constantly lied to, and otherwords treated like a human ashtray; after having been told that wanting to discuss my abortion options with the father is the same thing as "wanting to ruin his life"; after that person never discussing things afterwards without blaming me for everything.....

Yeah, I think deuchebag can go fuck himself. He's not the only reason why I'm fucked up.

But, this brings me back to my original revelation that...

I think that for as much as other people have hurt me, I have made it worse by not protecting myself afterwards. By continuing to care for those people and not leaving them, I enabled my own abuse. That is the only thing in all of this that I can be held responsible for:

Caring. About. Pricks.

Let me get this straight: I do not love this. I am not addicted to this. It is not the drama, nor the pain that I am attracted to. I have this stupidity inherent in me that enables me to first befriend a person and then not allow myself to believe that they are capable of horrible things.


I do it with my friends, too, but it's not my friends that hurt me so badly. It's the people I chose to love. That also is my responsibility... not seeing them for who they really are, what they are capable of.

However, this does not mean it is MY FAULT that I was raped, abused, and treated like fucking garbage.