hopeless, shocked, but somehow not surprised. broken, beaten, but somehow i survive. i'm not sure what the point of this existence is. perhaps my organs could be put to better use inside the body of another. maybe i'm a waste of space. a waste of resources, time, and supply. everything hurts, every millisecond more painful than the last. a "victim" is all i'll ever be - perhaps it's a complex, perhaps it's greed. who knows? i'm never right. i'm not sure how i'll make it through another day, another week, month, year, decade. but my beautiful golden retriever is pawing at my lap as i type suicidal thoughts onto my laptop. it's as though he can sense it, and so he reaches his paw out in desperation, begging me to stay. i look at his perfect little golden eyelashes blinking at me with confusion. "what is she so engrossed in?" is what he's thinking, but in dog.
if he knew, he'd be crushed. but i want to tell him "don't worry ben, i'm not going to leave you." i just wish it was a promise i could keep. perhaps i will. i couldn't leave him.
i'm hurting, and i'm sad. i've tried healing, in so many different forms. medication, therapy, transcranial magnetic stimulation, church, prayer, even exorcism in a dark basement with a pastor and his friend. i've tried songs, poems, piano, singing. i've tried jogging, running, getting my feet into tennis. hobbies, bracelet making, exploring old coffee shops in the area. friendships, colleagues, relationship building. college, career searching, investing in my current job.
i've done it all yet here i am. sitting inside the home of some church family who is trying to help me out. a family that is giving me the love i never received. reminding me that my days of being a childhood victim to sex trafficking are over.
yet here i am. eleven forty two at night, sitting in the guest room they have cleaned up for me. laying on my bed they transported into their home for me. blanketed by a seventy pound golden retriever who loves me more than life itself. wrapped in grace, seated in mercy. yet here i am.
suicidal.
on a forum.
wishing i could escape what, despite it all, feels like hell.