Distrust

Distrust
By Zoha Lixue

I wanted Jesus to save me
Needed to feel Gods love
Wrapped around me fully
I needed to know in him I could trust
But then I was discarded without a hint of remorse
It was all my fault you see
To young to fight back
Yet old enough to bleed
Taken in a shady place
Beside some holy trees
Right where God wanted me
Torn up knees and a bloody dress
This is where his holiness wanted me best
I was told to pray
That in time
All would be ok
Again I was broken
Again betrayed
Yet I was suppose to forgive and forget
Focus on better days
Maybe it was because I was wicked
Maybe it was because I sinned
Is that why this man was let in?
Did I deserve to be torn
Ripped by someone so loved
Was I so disgusting that I needed to be dirtied up?
I prayed to God daily
And asked him for help
Never gave up on faith
Even faith had given up
Just dusted my knees once he was done
Smiled brightly with my bloody dress
And promptly walked away.
At least…that is the story I will like to tell
I rather not tell the one where I am buring in hell
Every day is a struggle
Every day is war
Every day I am reminded that I was once forced to be a whore
By the grace of God I was tainted
Wanted nevermore
Yet I will pretend I am alright
Cause telling the truth is worse than a lie.

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Pick up the phone

Pick up the phone

By Zoha Lixue

I keep waiting for the call

That will tell me when it is over

Let me know that all is done

The tears

The lies

Is all come to an end

I am waiting for the call

To tell me it is time to live again

To smile

To breathe

Waiting for the call that says

“He is dead”

So my childhood can stop haunting me

Waiting for the day when I am not afraid

When I don’t go to bed

Thinking he is on his way

His plans to hurt my daughter

Give her nightmares similar to mine

I am waiting all the call

That ends it all

The one that will tell me that it is ok

I can see her

I can see her body floating as I close my eyes. I can see her hurting in every way imaginable as I stand by unable to do a thing. Sometimes I am dying and sometimes I am not. Either way I am always out of reach. I put my hand towards her, grasping, for just a touch. But I never make it, not in time anyways. I watch the light fade from her eyes. I watch as her beautiful smile twist into a look of pain.

This is my everyday nightmare.

As I close my eyes I see her dying. I see her suffering in unimaginable ways. I can’t do anything but watch. Either dead or alive I am always reaching for her.

This is my everyday. When I try to talk to people about it they just call me paranoid or don’t understand.

I can’t sleep unless she is beside me but there are days when that makes it worse. I take every pill the doctor gives me. Say my prayers before bed. Yet nothing is working.

I can see her hurting and I can’t make it stop.

Every day my daughter dies and I know it is all my fault.

A dream when I am waking

There is a dream I have when I am waking.

I say this because I know that I am asleep

Yet it seems to real that I can’t help to be afraid

In it someone is always dying, always hurting.

Just out if my reach.

I can not help them no matter how I try.

I am to far away from them yet I never give up.

Eventually there will reach a time when I will start to question myself.

Why do I desire to help some unknown person in a dream

Especially since in my waking life, no one bothers to help me?

So I shake my head and pull away

All the while ignoring their screams, begging to be saved.

How to fail

Easy

Just give it.

I know! Simple right.

Wrong!

It is actually really difficult to give up. Even as one is preparing to give up there is always something telling them to fight on. Sure we can attempt to ignore this…voice(?) But that is really hard. Some people in this world actually have to fight to give up.

Sure we can make example after example of people who clearly gave up but will we really?

Do you know how long it took that people to say that they had enough?

And

Sure we have those who never even tried in the first place, but can we honestly say that? Can you really say that at no point in their lives did they try to do or be better. And by better I do not always mean your definition of better. Sometimes it can mean theirs. Because there are people who the world who believe they are doing good but the rest of us are silently shaming them. In their minds they are trying just not in the way we want them to.

So how does one fail?

And in whose eyes are they really failing?

My wants

I need to be hated. It is easier to bear. Being loved means disappointment. It means hurting others for the sake of hurting them. It means being left behind when they grow to old or two tired. It means having others give up on you when you rather they stay near.

No

I would rather be hated.

I would rather feel that dark pain then know what love feels like. I can’t take the purity of that feeling. I can’t stand living with the what if.

I rather be hated and know what will happen.

Instead of being loved and constantly guessing.

In sickness and in health

Warning :self harm, suicidal ideation, bulimia, anorexia, mental disorders.

I got sick today. Like really sick.

And I know what you are thinking, why the hell did I just tell you about my five min date with the butt throne.

Well my dear people I am telling you this because it made me feel good.

Yes as I sat there puking my guts out all I could think of was

‘This isn’t so bad at all. A few months of this and I can finally be pretty’

Even know I sit here trying to make more come up because I want to lose this weight. I want to be skinny because to me that equals beauty. Now I do not hold this standard to everyone. People can be beautiful no matter what their size may be but I can’t. I will never be beautiful. I will never be someone who people want to give seconds looks. I am barely someone they want to see at the corner of their eye.

Not to say I believe me to be disgusting but I do find myself to be distasteful…borderline disgusting.

I hate myself so much that for a mins while getting sick I wanted to keep doing it. I wanted it all to go away. I kept thinking about all the disgusting foods I can shove down my throat just to have a reason to puke.

So I can be skinny

So I can be beautiful.

I will like to make a point to say that I also have the flu or a cold..whatever sickness this is I have it.

So I did not set out for today to puke up my delicious chicken tortilla soup with extra sour cream combined with a to die foe root beer float. I would have actually liked to have been able to digest that, thank you very much.

But once it happened, I felt relief. I felt alive.

This reminded me of something though. It reminded me of my addiction to cutting.

Both of these cause me great pain but in the end they bring me the greatest pleasure.

Through the pain I know that I am alive. I feel powerful. I feel beautiful. I feel as though I can finally see the light. Do you know how addicting it can be to have all that when your normal is constant darkness and paranoia. To finally have some clarity.

I can see the colors!

All the pretty pretty colors.

Sadly,

I know how destructive this can be. I know what it looks like for someone to starve themselves to lose weight. I know what it looks like for someone to accidently kill themselves.

I know the end result of my addiction.

So I don’t follow through with my temptations. No matter how much my mind tells me that I need to.

Instead I wait with anticipation for the next I cut or burn my skin by accident. I await that moment when I can spend hours in the bathroom due to some illness.

I no longer inflict these wounds on myself.

Instead I wait for someone else to do it for me.

All praise mother Gaia and karma.

May they serve me the pain I need to stay alive.