Letter To My Daughter

Dearest N,

You are my precious sunshine. The reason I get up each morning and my reminder to go to bed each night. You are the best thing to have ever happened to me. Even though you drive me insane at times I still smilw at your antics. I miss those days when I could just hold you. 

Now I can barely get you to hold my hand as we cross the street. Doesn’t mean you aren’t still loving, just that you would rather explore the world. How I love to watch you explore this world. You are so insightful to what is around you. Extremely smart and brave, you do and say things I couldn’t dream of. 

You always have a kind word for others. Your very presence makes the world a better place, it seems. 

How could someone not love you. My baby sunshine. My little girl. My precious angel. You are my everything. 

Yet…I am not perfect. I am no match for you light. I do not make people happy just by coming around. I bring no light to this world. I am not brave or smart. I am not insightful. I see this world as cruel and unyielding.  I am not happy. I am no angel. I am nothing. 

There are days when I think about sending you to live with another family. People who can properly love and care for you. Others who are made of light who will not bring you down. 

I am your opposite in every way. 

How did you, one so pure, manage to come from someone as broken as me. 

There are days when I figure you would be better off with me dead. 

So I don’t hold you back as you age. 

I hate myself so much that I feel it is rubbing off on you. Just the other day I heard you call yourself stupid. Please don’t do that. Never think that. It is me who is stupid but I guess I call myself that enough that you think you are as well. You are not. 

You are the one thing I did right. My gift to this dark world. My only wish is that you change it for the better. That as you age you light never dims. 

I hope that you know you are loved. 

No matter how sick I get know that I love you. 

No matter the words I say know that I cherish you. 

No matter how down I get know that you are worth it all. 

You may be the light to my darkness but know that I am here. I am listening to you even when the pain won’t go away. 

I am sorry for the hell I put you through.  For the times I cried and couldn’t get out of bed. I am sorry for the times it seemed like I didn’t want to play. 

You are my most precious baby girl.

My reason to go on.

I know that isn’t fair on you at all and I am sorry. I do what I can to make you happy. 

This letter was suppose to raise you up…and I am getting to that point. First I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for doing and saying the things I do. 

Sorry doesn’t cut it but know that I am trying my hardest to make things work. 
Raising you is difficult by myself. People told me I should habe gotten rid of you but I didn’t listen. I do not regret that in the slightest.  I hope you grow to understand that. You are not a mistake. You are someone so astonishing even the gods take notice. 

I will not always be here but know that I love you my little one. 

Know that no matter what is said and done that I will always be watching over you. 

Know that my flaws are not a reflection of you. What is broken in me just proves that you are someone so strong that you can get through anything. 

I miss the times when you let me hold you for hours on end. When I could caress your tiny face and hands. 

Now you are older and want to play by your own rules.  My this world be kind to you my love. Always stay true to yourself. You are a smart, confident, beautiful, amazing, generous, kind, courageous baby girl. My baby girl. 
I know none of this makes any sense now but It will in the future. 

I promise I will try my hardest to be there and explain it all to you. 

I love you my sunshine. 

 Momma. 

Ideal situations: My BPD 

Do you think they would tell her why I did it? Or would they keep it a secret and let her guess.

Would they tell her that I gave up on life?

Or would they explain to her how much I tried to survive.

Tell her how much I love her and how I cared. How many days I spent crying cause I wanted to be there. Those days I hated myself she is the only one who could make me believe.

In the end will they tell her the truth or would they just pretend?

I often wonder what would happen if I was to give in. I can’t do it cause I love her so, but damn, I want my life to end.
What would they tell my little girl if I was to succeed.  A bunch of bullshit lies or the truth they didn’t want to see.

I fucking hate myself and want to die but I can’t.

I have a little girl who needs me, at least that is what they tell me.

I think she will be ok. Rather be dead with her grieving then go about life hating the world because of my depression. Hating the world cause of my urges.

I rather her know that I love her and I tried then go through life hating it cause I made it hell.
But still…

If I did it what would they tell her.

My precious baby girl, what would they say.

In my head my death is a welcomed gift. Finally things will be ok.

But would they tell her this. Or would they make her think she was a mistake.

I love her so very much. Why Can’t I be allowed to give up?

I know they will tell her lies so that is why I stay. I stay so she will know that I love her everyday. I know her life will be hell and I know she may regret me. Still, I will be the bigger person and live despite being so empty

The Tape: Unheard Lyrics Are The Loudest, Side A

I love the way you scream.  How your blood seeps into my skin. I truly hope that this moment never ends. Can you see how this may excite me? How this has been a dream come true? 

I bet you are scared aren’t you? Don’t lie now, I can see the fear in your eyes. Want me to tell you a story? About how I got I got these scars in my wrist? About how, for awhile, I couldn’t think past the bullet jn my head. I can tell it to you darling.  Let you see the true me. Just know though, I am telling you this cause you will never have the chance to tell anyone else. Cause I am going to kill you. Oh no don’t shake your head and cry more. You knew this was going to happen. You knew that this was result of your very own actions. 

Where to begin…

Oh yes…

See, my name is Hannah.

….to be continued…

Bleed in thy name

An often cliche question right before one dies

“Where is God”

The devote Christian cries.

Before the trigger is pulled

And brain matter is allowed to splatter 

A question is asked

Though the answer doesn’t matter.

As they run place to place

A students blood freash on thier face

They ask a question 

Though they don’t truly care

A cliched question

A poetic end

“Where is God

The supposed Saviour to us all?”

Only a bullet wound 

is the respected response. 

I was reading an article on facebook (I am cheap and will not buy a news paper) and saw that there was a school shooting. Actually, there where multiple school shootings. In some people died while in others people where badly wounded. Still someone suffered in the end. 

I know Christians who want to kill themselves.  Despite it being a sin in their religion, they want to end it. I am not saying religion is a hoax due to that. It helps so many people; but it is not a save all heal all thing. Same can be said for those who do not believe in the idea of religion. 
The thing I am getting at is everyone suffers. Everyone experiences some sort of pain. Yet the one question many of us ask ourselves during this time is is there a God. If we believe or not he does come up. It is ingrained into many of our societies that he is real, so when feeling depressed is often hard to not think of him….or her….or them. 

So the cliche of the day before the trigger is pulled

        “Where is God?”

Not My Problem

Do not judge me

I gave up 

I become what they wanted

A body covered in cuts.

We are told that suicide is wrong. That is it the failures way out. I once read a story where of someone attempted suicide they where shipped to an island with other people who failed. There there were no rules and they could either try again or live how they pleased. 

Their records were deleted and their families told they died. I am not sure how the goverment in this book got away with not having to show the body, but they did. 

So on this small island some people did decide to take their lives while other vowed to keep going. 

It was a strange story. As you may assume all hell broke lose until rules were in place. Rape, murder, theft, just your basic chaos happened till they devised their own goverment of sorts. 

Not going to lie, I didn’t get that far into this series. Once I was assured people would try to find some meaning to life I stopped. 

Interesting that this is the part I stopped at. I guess I could have read on once the more darker stuff had passed….but I didn’t.  

I have read two variations to this story. One was a manga and they other a adult novel. Both times I stopped reading once life reached some sort of order. 

I don’t delude myself into thinking it would be perfect. Instead I choose to never give it a chance. I didn’t try to see if it would get better because what was right in front of me only seemed to be getting worse. 

In these books order was found but I just knew that it would change quickly. I knew that someone would grow bored of that life and try to start problems again. What else can happen when you put a bunch of emotional people in the same room. Even if everyone is getting along there will always be that one person who craves chaos. Who has this hidden bloodlust that they can’t get rid off. 
So I stop.

I stop reading and instead give up on the series. I see the dark past and have an understanding of the future. I expect change but it is not the change I believe can help me. 

People might think I am strange for that. They might tell me that I need to stick around and let the story finish. That giving up before I can truly reach the ending it not giving the author credit. But I, as the reader, hold all the power. 

In a story filled with violence, I can choose when it will end. 
So when people look to suicide I do not see what they see. They find a failure, a victem, I see a person who took their life into their own hands. Yes they have left so much behind but they are finally free…at least…that is what they think. 
Now despite this understanding I do not believe that peoppe should harm themselves. I do believe that people should preserve. Giving up on a silly book is easy, but giving in to life is a whole other story. 

We readers hold the power. Our story may be filled with pain. We may not hold all the answers on how it could change. We may not be alone in our suffering. We could be sitting on an island surrounded by people who hate just like us. Emotional husk, beings left to rot. We may have tried to end our lives in the past and have it being held against us but we still hold the power. 

Change may not happen fast enough. Somewhere along the lines there will be thay one person trying to fuck it all up. But we, dear reader, will try our hardest to go on. Not just for ourselves but for those around us who also need a reason to go on. 

Do not ever think you are alone. Do not ever think that you are not worth it. We may not have the lives of writers but as readers we are still so very strong. So very very important. Because without us there is no them. Without us they world would be an even more crueler place.
I understand death. 

I understand wanting to shut the book and call it a day. 

I understand giving up.

I understand it all. 

Without those who suffer this world would not understand.
But fuck me !it isn’t fair! It isn’t fair that people must feel pain so the rest of the world can learn something called empathy and understanding. 
I once read a story where people were forced to live on an island after they tried to kill themselves. Their loved ones were told theu succeeded. Some were probably forgotten whole other remembered often. On this island people died, people were raped, people suffered. Forced to live a life they didn’t want just so they could teach others a lesson. 

It isn’t fair at all. 

I stopped reading that book once things started going good. I didn’t want to see people come along and try to break what was once broken. I didn’t want to see as they healed from their wounds and try again. I didn’t want to see them be happy, for others to try stop them. 

Instead I focused in them surviving. 

Cause in the end…no matter what they decided..they did all they could to make their life theres. 
How unfair is that? 

A random status update

I have never been good at dealing with the death of a loved one. I have often found myself to be the only person openly crying at funerals. As everyone is floating around and celebrating, I was always the one calming talking to the body as though they could still hear me. The one everyone felt that needed to baby due to my delicate nature. 

It is funny though cause I actually celebrate death. I do not pretend to be happy with a passing. Instead I let myself feel sad. I do not hade behind perfect smile and tell everyone thanks for coming. No I kneel and allow the person I have lost know I love and will always remember them. I celebrate death once I have grieved.

Not to say smiles or laughter at a funeral should not happen cause they should. I just don’t do it. 

I am not very religious, but despite how some of my poems may seem, I love religion of all kinds. Including Christianity.  I may not follow all the teachings but I do not find it horrible. 

So I can understand how something that is something  we need to sing about. 

I am just quieter…..

Still….

I wish people would stop seeing my tears as a weakness. I wish they would talk to me. Let me tell them that sure I am crying, but I will be on in time. 

Why do people hide death from me? Treat like a little flower who needs to be protected? Has anyone read my poems and stories??? Seriously, I will be ok. Just give me time. Let me vent, let me grieve in my own way. 

Murder, She wrote

I often find myself reading psychological books where people are forced to face some past demon. Maybe they were abused growing up or they witnessed something they shouldn’t have. Maybe they had a moment of weakness and it cost someone their life. I love this type of stories because they can bring me comfort or even force me to see things. When I see them I also get to read about how people overcame these obstacles and found something close to happiness.

Funny thing is that sometimes the main character may have to go seek professional help. They are diagnosed and if you, like me, love looking up mental illness, you can sometimes can an “Ah yep understandable” moment.

I recently had one where a man was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.  In the story I read he was hurt as a child by his father and also watched as his father killed another little boy. His life was full of abuse even as he reached adulthood yet his quirks seemed so familiar to me. They were much like my own that before I even got to the chapter where he was diagnosed I started to question things.

He has this urge to paint, to tell his story. To finally undo this lie he was forced to keep. If he didn’t paint he would basically escape into himself and a ‘monster’ would take over. When that happened people were hurt bad.

The story was pretty much talking about his journey with overcoming it all and being able to love someone.  This was a psychological romance (m/m cause a duh) that left me crying.

It touched on things I have never even told my therapist for fear they would find me an unfit parent. How there are times when I feel like someone is watching me. They are so very angry. I know exactly who they are but I can’t tell anyone. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night I can hear them talking (it is usually only one…or at least it has been since my daughter was born)

I know who she is and I know that with time I won’t feel her presence anymore.

I don’t know why it took a fictional book to help me realize that what I am going through is normal. I am pretty sure most would question my already fading sanity levels if I had told them.

But it is true. This book helped me a lot. I will probably never be as brave as this fictional character.  I will probably never have the type of love that they received either. Nor will I get the kind of support and dedication that I need to make it through this life as they did. I am not alone though.

Reading has always been something that saved me. I could focus on someone elses trouble for a while. My life isn’t perfect at all but it is my life. It may not make sense to believe this book helped me despite me writing as though I am helpless towards my future. I mean I do not think I have a future but this book did help me. I am not alone in what I feel.

My life isn’t some written fiction someone made up. I may not have the perfect ending to it but it is mine. In time my thoughts could change. But just knowing that I am not alone brings me a world of comfort.
There she follows

To and fro

A little girl I forget to know

Shackled to a hurtful past

She haunt my conscience so the pain will last

I regret the cause that brought her near

Regret the dreams I have grown to fear

The little girl who cases

To and fro

The little girl who won’t leave me alone

So I write her story

I write her song

I write all the way I have done her wrong

So that she may go to sleep another day

Until she is once again ready to play

*****************************************

The book that made me feel this way can be found here (via author website. She has a lot of other books that deal with some tough issues)

Or directly on amazon here

She is an amazing writer so check her out if you like m/m novels.