sincerely dead
It's not me, it's you
- Jun 17, 2023
- 318
entry one
entry two
hi, i'm illicit. and this is entry three.
everyone thinks i should be okay by now. that somehow, twenty eight years of trauma will just evaporate. dissolve. into nothingness. the same nothingness that i wish i could become. disappear in the same way that my soul wants to leave my brain. but that isn't how it works.
i understand i've been incredibly blessed to be given this new life with a family that is loving and that going no contact with my perpetrators is the greatest gift i could receive right now. but everyone thinks that it is an instant fix and that ever since i crossed over into this new life, like magic, i would want to live again.
well i don't. i am mourning the last twenty eight years of my life, as i watch twenty nine creep up slowly. i'm mourning what i could've become, what i could be. i am mourning the fact that i am who i am, instead of what i should've been.
but i feel so over it. done. pressured. the weight of the expectation is crushing my soul that is already fighting heavy odds.
and i deal with it by waking up to an alarm clock that reminds me i have to go to my 9-5. my 9-5 reminds me of how mundane it all is. existence. even without trauma.
everyone i've ever loved or been loved by has destroyed me.
i just want to go to bed. eternally, if possible. but i'll even just take a good night's sleep. one night without a nightmare. one night without waking up without adequate oxygen. one night of peace. one night free of the excruciatingly heavy weight on my heart that physically aches.
and sure, maybe i can get that. for a moment. but is it unreasonable or greedy to ask for more than just a breath? i'm surviving on scraps thrown at me from my abusers. from the world. and perhaps that makes me someone who doesn't recognize my privilege or appreciate my position. perhaps i am just ungrateful.
i don't even know.
can i please get peace? can it please just feel okay?
entry two
hi, i'm illicit. and this is entry three.
everyone thinks i should be okay by now. that somehow, twenty eight years of trauma will just evaporate. dissolve. into nothingness. the same nothingness that i wish i could become. disappear in the same way that my soul wants to leave my brain. but that isn't how it works.
i understand i've been incredibly blessed to be given this new life with a family that is loving and that going no contact with my perpetrators is the greatest gift i could receive right now. but everyone thinks that it is an instant fix and that ever since i crossed over into this new life, like magic, i would want to live again.
well i don't. i am mourning the last twenty eight years of my life, as i watch twenty nine creep up slowly. i'm mourning what i could've become, what i could be. i am mourning the fact that i am who i am, instead of what i should've been.
but i feel so over it. done. pressured. the weight of the expectation is crushing my soul that is already fighting heavy odds.
and i deal with it by waking up to an alarm clock that reminds me i have to go to my 9-5. my 9-5 reminds me of how mundane it all is. existence. even without trauma.
everyone i've ever loved or been loved by has destroyed me.
i just want to go to bed. eternally, if possible. but i'll even just take a good night's sleep. one night without a nightmare. one night without waking up without adequate oxygen. one night of peace. one night free of the excruciatingly heavy weight on my heart that physically aches.
and sure, maybe i can get that. for a moment. but is it unreasonable or greedy to ask for more than just a breath? i'm surviving on scraps thrown at me from my abusers. from the world. and perhaps that makes me someone who doesn't recognize my privilege or appreciate my position. perhaps i am just ungrateful.
i don't even know.
can i please get peace? can it please just feel okay?
