Who’s Gonna Save My Soul Now?

CARE n. A feeling of concern, anxiety, or worry; guardianship or custody.
v. To show interest or regard.

If you “CARE” about me, why do you criticize me? Ridicule me? Degrade me? Disrespect me?

RESPECT v. To show consideration or esteem for; to relate to.
n. Courtesy or considerate treatment.

If people had “RESPECT” for one another, there wouldn’t be any reason for arguments, hatred, criticisms, or intolerance.

Why does everyone I care about, always do the opposite for me? Every person I have ever loved, cared for, or respected, has treated me differently. Why is LIFE like this? Why was I cursed with the ability to love and hate at the same time?

Anthony, Desmond, Andre, Derek, Kenny, Robert. Why did I love them so much, even though they never really cared about me? My mother, my father, sisters, brothers? The people I was suppose to be closest to, only brought me PAIN. I loved every single one of them and all they did was hurt me. I opened my arms, my heart, my soul to them and all they did was make me feel as whatever. My feelings were never important. I never mattered. When I was already hurt, they kicked me down even more. No matter how much I expressed my love, it was never good enough. I’m not good enough. I came into this world not good enough. And for 29 years, I put up with not being good enough, even though I’ve tried and tried to throw the “trash” away, God kept trying to make me strong.

I’m so sick of being strong. I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of being a waste of organs and a soul. I tried. I mean, I REALLY FUCKING TRIED, but what is all this for? WTF does everyone want from me?

For as long as I can remember, I have been nothing but a whore, slut, THOT, my entire life. Even before I ever really had sex. My mother was the first. Even when I wasn’t having sex yet, I was a smutty little girl. My uncle molested me, and everyone in the family used to see it, but never cared enough to rat on the bastard. My aunt is still married to the man. But okay, I survived.

When I finally was in a relationship, Robert abused me. He was sweet, at first, of course. A year later, he started beating on me, biting me, slapping me around, then he finally raped me when I finally got the courage to leave. I killed my first baby. No one knew.

Kenny was no different. I was so stressed out, my hair fell out and I miscarried.

Derek made me believe he was different. Made me believe we actually had a future. But I ended up discouraged. Back into my abusive mother’s home.

Andre, I thought was my best friend. He made me laugh and feel important again. Until I realized that I was only important to him financially. I figured he would get deported out of America or end up in jail either way.

Then I met Desmond. I never wanted to get too close to him, but once again I was fooled into believing I was something special. The lies. The go-aways, The come backs. Playing with my mind, my heart. The drugs. Man, I really wanted to die. I almost considered shooting up heroin, that’s how bad I wanted to die! I did cocaine. I smoked weed all the time. I abused prescriptions that I was given. I hung myself in the garage with a belt and that still didn’t kill me. But then I got the courage to finally leave. Tried to forget, well, if you’ve read my blog, you saw the text messages.

Finally Anthony. The actor. How did I get myself caught up in another dilemma? One minute he cares, the next I don’t hear or see him for days straight. He thinks I’m cheating on him, but I know for a fact that it is he. I go through his phone, he goes through mine. I did the dumb thing by getting a new phone on his plan, and I think he’s hacking into my shit too. After looking up his Facebook, which he doesn’t want to add me on, I’ve noticed photos with other girls or he’s out doing things without me. I know I should leave, but of course, every time I try to break up with him, it’s always some dumb excuse to try to work out our differences. The last two-three weeks hasn’t help. My bruises and his cuts are just now healing. But my heart hurts. I put myself in this situation again. Just ME! I cry from the loneliness and the pain.

If I cheated, as I’ve contemplated, then I’m no better than the rest of these bitch asses. If I left, I’ll still be alone. Still in my darkness. I’ve lost people who were friends. Cut off people who have been through everything with me for these losers. And for what? Do I even care and respect myself? Am I so damaged that I’ve lost myself in my own pity?

I really thought this blog would help me with my depression, my anxieties, and my compulsions, but its not really helping. I’ve been trying to write to get my frustrations out, but it’s not working. I want to still do things that I’ve given up. I want to smoke weed, sometimes snort a line or two. I want to meet some random guy and fuck his brains out and have him begging for more like it’s crack.

But I quit, because I wanted my dignity back. I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to rely on some punk ass nigger who was fucking any and everybody anyways. And yet, here I am.

I want to believe Anthony is different. I really do. But his actions and his stories and making me feel otherwise. I don’t trust him. And I don’t trust myself!

Who’s Gonna Save My Soul Now?

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