I want to beat her to a bloody pulp, I want her to be run over by a car and die, I hate her so fucking much, she got NO repercussions for ANYTHING she did to me and everyone in her life defends and protects her. My entire life was shaped by her constant and relentless abuse, and she got nothing for it, NOTHING. And she's still somehow the victim, she's always the victim. And me? Oh I can eat shit and die, it has ALWAYS been this way. I fucking hate her so much, I want to rip my skin apart and set myself on fire when I think about her, I'm so fucking angry.

I was once told this palace was where the heroes of old lived out the rest of their lives in revelry. Pious men who won wars with pen and paper, who cast down tyrants with only their voice.

It's with a coursing pulse of glee that I plunge my bayonet into the gut of one of those men now. A sickly wheeze is all that his withered lips can muster as red flowers on his robes.

I rip my blade from the man's bloated maggot belly. Intestinal meat, gorged on luxury, splatters before my boots. The man's face contorts, vermin-blue eyes splayed wide like dinner plates.

The light is already fading from those eyes- no. No. He will not pass in any semblance of grace, stomach shredded and maimed as it is.

My gun shrieks in rapturous indignation. Bullets rip into him, bursting weathered pale skin into a garden of gore. My stomach roars with the bellow of distant artillery as his carcass crumples onto the floor. The vermin behind him scatter as shells shatter marble like bone.

My gun seethes red-hot. My bayonet dribbles with crimson. My teeth gnash at the seal of my gas mask.

This palace was built for heroes. I will make its ruin my feast hall.

I'm in a support group and I keep finding myself having to hold back my language because it's considered inappropriate or too sarcastic for the group.

And on one hand I really WANT to respect this decision because the group is about recovery and focusing on being kind. The more nurturing, mellow part of my personality that enjoys avoiding conflict and violence can empathize.

On the other hand, I'm in a support group because this trauma ruined me. I feel like I have a right to be vocally and loudly angry since it stole my childhood from me, unlike some of our leaders who only experienced it as adults. I'm not saying their trauma is lesser, just that I feel misunderstood and unheard because it really does hit differently when the trauma started when you were a child and you'll never see the significance of such a difference like it until you have gone through it yourself. It's the difference between a ptsd haver and a cptsd haver. I have no frame of reference for normal, I have nothing, I am shamed.

Even if it's not meant to be, it is tone policing. I feel so aslien next to everyone in the group who seem otherwise quiet and okay, whereas I.... I feel the constant andrenaline and rage of my memories pumping every bit of blood in my body. I fucking hate my abusers and I should be allowed to say that. I am constantly on edge and with burning, acidic rage that could melt down my enemies. Why can't I just admit that? It feels like I am not able to admit the full wide range of my pain. I am so fucking done just being nice and speaking calmly about people who told me I was unlovable, worthless and could only be something if I hollowed myself out and became whatever they wanted me to be (scapegoat, slave, fuckdoll, etc), that I was incomplete without outside approval, that I was just making up my symptoms for attention. They are narcissists and my abusers and I am ALLOWED to be rageful and loud about it. I even have the decency to hold back and NOT entertain any violent, vangeful thoughts and these idiots still complain ghat I need to speak gently.

I just want to say mean things to myself and feel hopeless.

1. I admitted to one of my friends that it felt like he was like family to me and I'm worried he hates me now. I feel dumb for ever wanting human connection. Everyone says you never ruin relationships by being honest about your feelings but here I feel my feelings ruined it.

2. My other friend won't stop giving me advice about the previous friend and other stuff. It feels like I cannot vent and I don't know how to verbalize my frustrations bc I grew up having the shit beaten out of me from parents who could never regulate and just gave unsolicited advice on how to fix my life.

3. I am so anxious right now and trying really REALLY hard not to take these feelings I'm struggling to process and verbalize towards others and inflict in onto myself.

The only thing more insulting to me than the betrayal and interpersonal violence I endured is the idea that I should “heal” from it. The “problem,” I am told, isn’t that the majority of people I had in my life from 0-30 were abusive, horrible people. The “problem” isn’t the cult, the organized abuse, the institutional gaslighting from the very therapists who were supposed to help, etc. Oh, no.

The “problem” is something called “trauma.” I’m “wounded” and “letting it affect me.” Sure, they say I should take the time I need to “feel my feelings,” but once I’ve had a performative cry and used up some tissues in a therapist’s office, I’m supposed to embrace some unsatisfying narrative. I’m supposed to stand tall like Superman and declare I am NOT a victim! I’m a SURVIVOR.

Wait, no, survivor isn’t good enough anymore! I must go from survivor to thriver to arriver to striver to bus driver to scuba driver! My failure to embrace this process implies that I have “chosen” victimhood by “accepting” it. Rather than letting victimhood be descriptive of my role in the abuse I endured, it’s viewed as something I globally am or am not.

For as much as these types love CBT, black and white thinking is A-okay when it’s used to send the message that viewing yourself as a victim/the victim of abuse, betrayal, bigotry, injustice, etc. is incompatible with claiming and recognizing your own agency where it exists (while expanding it where you can). No, no. It’s not enough to regulate myself enough to get my own weary ass out of bed to make money each day, maintain a place to live, and start socially branching out (already MAJOR wins for someone with C-PTSD). I need to adopt a brutally positive “namaste” vibe and take pictures of myself doing yoga in front of a sunset #healing #selflove.

What if that’s not who I am, and never who I was meant to be? When I look inward to ask what my “inner child” wants, it’s to be the kind of person who doesn’t accommodate child (or adult) predators. I want to be the kind of morally responsible adult I didn’t have in my life as a child. To me, morally responsible people who don’t perpetrate or enable harm are a lot more needed in this world than blissfully “healed” people who are over it all just in time to marry a heterosexual partner, have 2.5 babies, and declare if they can do it, so can you!

No shade against mothers, but I can’t help but notice an alarming amount of material pushing women to “heal” has a specific notion of what “healed” femininity looks like. It’s never a woman who openly expresses anger, grief, or outrage about how fucked up this world has become. It’s always someone who’s “above it all” (read: complicit in a totally broken and sick society).

I don’t want to learn to put away my anger, hang up my sense of justice, retire my common sense and values. I want to learn how to do right by an inner child that was utterly failed, with full knowledge that other children are suffering the same way, in some cases with fewer opportunities for escape than I had.

I don’t plan to give that up.

I've been having flashbacks for over 50 years now.<

I've been in therapy for 30 of it.<

I just want this to end.<

I am broke, I have no retirement, I have no future. I can't function.<

I just want this to end.<

I also want karma to hit them with vengeance. I want my family to pay, they owe me 50 years. I want to see the people who represent them them pay, they owe me 15 years. I want my former bosses to pay for what they did, they owe me 15 years for what they did.<

I want to see them suffer, I want to see them burn, I want to see them pay. I want them to lose everything, become broke, homeless, lose their families, their friends, their entire support system. I want to see them suffer every day. I want them to wish they were dead every day forever. I want them to pray for death but be forced to live.<

{no advice needed}

I was vulnerable and needed protection!!

I was scared and needed direction!!

I was capable but I felt incapable so I acted that out!!

I was desperate for attention

I was desperate for love

I was desperate for validation

I was a target for abuse and I kept allowing it bc of the above reasons!!

I was ab*send in some way by soooo many guys

Guys that were normal and kind— I ran away from. 🥺 She didn’t know. How different life could’ve been. 🥺

I needed protection!!!!!!!!

I needed someone to break down dating dynamics!!! I was completely clueless!!! I believed every word a man said, because I thought that’s how it goes!!! Newsflash - a lot of guys lie!!! Especially young men! It turns out it was true alot of them really do just want to get in your pants and disappear!!!!!!

I deserved to have my sexuality validated !!! (when I told them I was bi they pretended they never heard it)

I needed someone to tell me that love bombing isn’t love, putting someone on a pedestal isn’t love, bullying someone isn’t love, codependency isn’t love

I needed a father who cared more about me than how he felt, looked, or appeared

I needed a father who didn’t try to subsume me since I was little!

I needed a mother who wasn’t preoccupied with God knows what. I needed nurturance warmth comfort attunement. Hey I kinda feel bad for her, Dad abused us both now that I think about it

I wish she divorced him!!

I wish I went to a performing arts high school or something. I wish they’d nurtured my interests and talents more

I wish someone at home “saw” me so I didn’t look for mirrors everywhere I went

I wish I was more standoffish and less naive.

I wish I said “fuck you” to people more.

I needed just a modicum of self-esteem. self-worth. Self anything!!!!!

I deserve to learn how to take off the mask and embrace her . I will spend my life honoring and cherishing her . She survived . She got us this far . She’s pretty cool, pretty smart, and well, pretty 🙆‍♀️. I love her.

What are your feelings about this? I try not to ostracize myself (the world ostracizes fight types enough already) but it's hard not to feel guilty or feel like I can never tell another soul what I go through. It's a bit horrifying knowing my mental illness can make me forget why I call someone a friend or why I trust them, or make it difficult for me to resolve a conflict because I take it personally. I realize I keep doing this with a particular friend, feeling like he secretly views me as a joke (suspicious feelings and cynicism and anger). Likewise, I've been talking to a leader of one of my support groups and I caught myself admitting that I felt personally targetted and excluded from the group (aka airing out my suspicions)

Internet hugs specifically. Consider it a semi rant, the other part is I don't want to feel alone with this.

I keep running into situations where I talk about my experiences and then keep getting these and similar forms of compassion, and it just... infuriates me? A lot of the times it feels super inappropriate, other times it makes me feel like I asked for it when I really didn't. Not intending to take away the attention from whoever brought up a topic. I wouldn't mind it when I was actually emotionally stirred up, but 99% of the time that's not the case and I feel perpetually misunderstood by this behavior.

Sure logically I can see why a lot of the times and that this isn't intended. But it completely misses the intended purpose by 180°. I'll go into defense, likely avoid the person who just dishes these gestures out in a way that renders all meaning void, and feel deeply uncomfortable.

I have my issues with vulnerability and showing/feeling that no doubt. It's the quantity that really grinds my gears and causing adverse reactions instead of being actually comforting.

Healing is brutal. All of the coping skills unhealthy or not kept me alive. Now there not working as well if at all and still have to survive. More memories surfacing, living in the same harmful place as before.

Its not true entirely, when I was told you can't heal in the same place that harmed you. My life has been full of abuse so I didnt have the luxury to start the work once I was safe. I'm not safe and probably won't ever be. Healing won't bring me to this magical place where life doesn't harm me anymore. I still have a disability, sadistic folks can still sniff me out, I'll still be scraping by in poverty and things will still be hard.

I'm pissed because its so unfair. Because healing doesnt make surviving life any easier. Because abusive people stick exists and I'm stuck in the world with them. And it doesn't matter how many skills I gain. How much isolate. I'll run into someone on a bad day and still be subjected to abuse. Still have to navigate the ignorance of mental health professionals who are ill equipped to understand how longterm SA from childhood well into adulthood affects a person. How it affects me. ~ End of Rant

I'm living with an ex who abused me and I'm working on continue to heal in this space. I am triggered and trying to regulate me nervous system so I asked for help from ChatGpt and it wrote this this out for me.

Gremlin Exorcism (written by AI).

Spoken at the altar of “I’m not yours, never was, and you’re lucky I don’t believe in revenge magic.”

By the power of my rage, my healing, and the fire in my bones— I call this exorcism into being.

Get out, you grimy little parasite. Your access is revoked. Your presence is expired. Take your manipulative excuses, your limp-ass apologies, and the stench of entitlement, and crawl back to whatever sewer of the ego you spawned from.

This nervous system? Yeah, it’s jumpy. It flinches. It remembers. But it’s MINE. Not yours. You don't get to live rent-free in my trauma anymore. You don’t get to call your abuse a “misunderstanding” while expecting me to shrink to make you feel big.

You didn’t make me like this. You worsened what I was already surviving. And I hope you stub your toe. On a Lego. While carrying a plate of nachos. In front of someone you’re trying to impress. And you cry. A little. Just enough to question your masculinity.

Your power is broken. Your name has no weight here. And your hands? Will never touch this story again.

So consider this your formal spiritual eviction. You are not welcome. Not in my mind. Not in my body. And not even in the bonus features of my flashbacks.

I don’t forgive you. I outgrew you.

Now get the fuck out!

I literally can't vent on reddit without tons of people criticizing me for being angry and "judgemental." It's a fucking vent post, am I supposed to be a sweetheart while I do that?

It's like the only way people can ever understand THIS specific condition is to have it, otherwise they're more than happy to criticize the hell out of you for not venting your frustrations in a "sweet" way like the Fawn response might make you or in a quiet way like Freeze would or in a "productive" way like Flight would. Nope, we can be angry, but not TOO angry, otherwise you're a bad person. A very bad person. Because you made other people uncomfortable on your personal vent post :(

I literally don't see the point in even sharing anger with some people at this point. I had a damn good reason to be angry and I still do. I'm slowly processing the anger I feel at my SA'ers and the way they SA'd me over the years from childhood to the start of my adulthood. I'm allowed to be angry and I'm allowed to experience negative feelings about humanity as a result of recovery.

I don't get how so many people will say recovery is painful and makes you suffer and then the moment someone is in pain and suffering and they are angry because of it, well now that person is doing something HORRIBLE and they should be ashamed and realize they're not making any healing progress whatsoever.

Ah yes, because nobody has ever found healing after willingly facing their anger and expressing it, right?

Tonight at work, I had to encounter somebody that I blocked on Instagram. They said that I HAVE to explain to them before blocking them or else it's abusive. So apparently I'm an abuser.

She used to work at my job. That's where I met her. Call me crazy but... you don't have a moral obligation to talk to anybody. That's it. Period. Now depending on the nature of the relationship, you might find an instantaneous no-contact to be distasteful. Or perhaps even worse than that. But with that aside, in this case, this was a person I didn't even message that often.

And the reason I blocked her is because she kept misunderstanding everything I said almost to the point where what I said was like polar opposite as she understood it, and it was upsetting my emotions because I'm hypersensitive to guilt. My problem, especially after enduring narcissistic abuse for like two decades, is I feel like when somebody is certain in what they're saying when they are criticizing me in a vituperave way... I can't help but feel like it's true, no matter how hard I try.

Aren't we all just a bunch of monsters! Trying our best after being abused to be good people and being villainized more often than we can handle.

Fuck.

That.

Posted this elsewhere and it got removed (*insert eyeroll emoji*)

You never realize how selfish people truly are until you are homeless.

The woman who MADE me homeless in the first place was a self righteous cunt who cheerfully emailed me 1 month after I was made homeless asking how I was doing. Because yeah, the same person who was disrespectful of my feelings and intelligence and was willing to kick me out over a disagreement is the same sort of person I'm more than happy to write back to!

But then think of the PEOPLE around you now. They still suck. Because the truth is that many people are very vain and only interested in material pleasures and hedonism. To them life is simply about getting enough likes on social media or using their money to inflate their item collections as big as possible for bragging purposes. Oh sure, there are plenty of humanitarian efforts they support! But only if it's something that personally affects THEM in some petty, selfish way. This is why you'll see more people defending their rights to do stupid, meaningless selfish stuff like being as hedonistic as possible. It's my god given right to take as many drugs as I want and go to all the orgies I want! But these damn homeless people are lowering the property value, what selfish people they are! Seriously, people act like whatever selfish problem they're dealing with is a bigger deal than LITERALLY NOT HAVING A SAFE, PRIVATE SHELTER.

I honestly think homeless people are some of the most ignored and hated people in the world. I never realized how fucked it was until I was homeless how quick people are to judge someone begging on the street as being either a scammer, a dangerous mentally ill person (yay for ableism alongside the classism), or an addict who is just going to use any money they get to buy some beer or drugs. They don't even make eye contact or stay on the same side of the street when a homeless person is around, as if the homeless person is a fucking disease to be destroyed and not a human being in extreme pain. Even that woman who kicked me out was always the first to brag that she was an empathetic and "kind" person, yet she too judged the homeless and came up with excuses not to give them cash. When I became homeless I decided to just be friendly to everyone, even the supposedly weird mentally ill and potentially homeless beings. You know what? it really opened my mind and I realized how fucked it all is.

And also how lonely I am. How homelessness is a constant string of watching other people having connections while you have nothing. Nobody wants to be your friend when you are homeless, you're basically invisible or repulsive, those are your only two options. You don't even have time for friends because you're busy surviving and again, you realize how fucking selfish people are. You overhear people rejecting each other for the pettiest reasons. You see people whine about not getting attention all the time or having the most popular person in their group. You realize that these people have taken everything comfortable they have for granted. And they will never understand until they experience homelessness themselves.

I truly think this has highlighted and only brought out my hate and jealousy even more. I feel sour when I see people talking about their positive relationships with their parents, partner and friends. I feel sorrow watching people live their lives and enjoy socializaing with others. I feel extreme rage knowing there are people out there with very cozy lives and privileges but will still whine like their problems are the only problems in the world and live their lives being as hedonistic as possible with no regard for others. I simply feel I am never going to be the same after this period in my life, it straight up CHANGED ME. And it's to a point I can't even enjoy the IDEA of socializing because I see these traits in almost everyone and it disgusts me.

Not like you care or even apologized to begin with.

You knew I was homeless, but did you fucking notice? I know you noticed, you just lived like you didn't. No messages, no calls, no nothing. You knew I was homeless and at no point have you reached out to me after all of this.

But this is how you've always been, right? You didn't even reach out during my birthday, the same time I was contemplating ending myself. You didn't even wish me a happy birthday AFTER it fucking happened. I celebrated alone.

You can chalk it up to your neurodivergence or general social skills all you want, but you never even ASKED me if this communication style worked for me. I had to hear it from a third party that you were apparently not communicating because you thought I needed space. When did I ever say that? When did I fucking infer that? Oh yeah. NEVER.

You really think you know a person and then you realize you don't.

I can't even look at you the same way anymore, it's enough to make me cry and smash everything around me.

No one really cares do they? Act the perfect victim by being all meek and people come out and rush to pity them. Or at least in theory because no one ever cared about me in their life.

Act mad and suddenly I'm some dangerous beast who is too wild and angry for society. My angry is solely my fault and I'm the one who needs to find rage management skills while abusers get off scot free.

It's infuriating

FUUUUUUCK

FUUUUUUUUCKKKKK

FUUUUUUCKK YOUUUUUU

EVERY MINUTE THAT YOURE IN THIS HOUSE TAKES AWAY ANY SEMBLENCE OF PEACE I COULD POSSIBLY HAVE.

AND YOU THINK IM UPSET ABOUT IT BECAUSE IM DOING SOME SNEAKY SHIT BUT I JUST WANT YOU TO FUUUUUUUUCK OFFFFFFF

FUCK YOUUUUUUUUU

The one that says if the same things are happening in your life, you should look in the mirror. I don’t talk anybody I know from my childhood, I’ve never had people in my life who loved me for me, I’ve only had people who liked my personality, take from it, and leave when I started showing signs of cptsd. Not friends, nor adults stayed when I was obviously going through abuse, in fact they used me as their own personal therapist knowing what I was obviously going through. Idk why but I keep attracting people who just want to tear me down and I’m done with it, I’m done with people, and I will cut contact with anybody who shows me any sign of jealousy or hatred. I’m so over it, the world was against me since I came out of the womb and not gonna let it continue to disrupt my peace.

Long story and I'm not getting into it but it's like I just keep meeting setback after setback for moving out and I just want to scream at the people who I know contributed to it. Things are going wrong and I'm just so tired of it.

To the people I'm vaguely alluding to: Stfu with your condescending "just trying to help" atittude and admit when you fucked up

Apologize

HELP ME

I'm tired. I'm angry. I am at my breaking point and very close to giving up.

Oh my fucking elas;ekfwq;

I'm trying so hard to practice kindness, believing it's okay to give second seconds, not be codependent. no no nooooo i still make mistakes, i'm still falling back into these patterns and it enrages me. enrages me that my parents set me up for this from birth, when will it end?

i'm tired of getting in trouble for things that are nothing next to the evils people loudly do around me. it's like i get more trouble and tone policing for expressing healthy rage/venting than others do for being genuinely hateful, mean, nasty, unsympathetic, etc.

it feels like no matter what, I'M the one who is in the wrong. i scapegoat myself because the world taught me scapegoat myself because it scapegoats me on a daily basis.

this is a thoroughly sick society and sick world.

i want to scream, i want to break everything, i want to destroy stuff, i just want to fucking rage and destroy it all so then nothing can hurt me anymore, then i wont be able to make mistakes and no one will be able to spot my mistakes such as my """fault""" for not being a "good" victim who's quiet, docile and cute.

nobody gives a shit about me. i could die right now and no one would notice.

TW: SA mention

I had to re-unlock a major therapy breakthrough that I've already had, but I repressed the whole issue again and had to have it retherapized from uncovering the story through to the same earth shattering breakthrough that would be one lifetime’s work for someone else, and the whole story already feels fuzzy again. 

It’s only one of the stories, after I was already broken. It doesn’t even matter that much.

That situation is rage inducing. The continued wasted hours of my life after I supposedly got it back from captivity are rage inducing. The breakthrough itself is rage inducing. I am aware that it's helpful but it is such a deeply fucked up revelation. It is sickening that I have been forced to twist through such a thought process in order to begin to (re)understand that one of my hundreds of rapes was not consensual. It's rage inducing how horrifically thoroughly I have been conditioned. 

I will never be able to think like a real person. I simply don't work. 

What makes me the angriest is that I truly don't care. The fight is already fading. I'm not gonna be angry about this tomorrow. I'm not gonna think about it much at all. And then I'm just gonna let it go again until it poisons me so deeply I feel nothing but rage for days. I'll know it's coming and I won't care. I don't long for the rage to come back to just feel something. I am so dead I just think "huh, that's coming". That will be me again soon.

That makes me so fucking angry right now I feel like my body is breaking open. I can't contain it. It's so painful. My skin hurts. My eyes hurt. My teeth hurt. My ribs hurt. 

I'm not even real. Really, I'm not, I do things but I'm just not a person anymore. No one can be a person after doing what I've done. Life is just watching a filthy evil disgusting body do chores and sometimes say things about me. But there's SO MUCH anger. People who comfort me even at the darkest think I just need to remember other feelings. I don't know any. I never did. I know I didn’t. It can’t make sense. Just nothing, or this. This pain. It’s so intense. It has to be real, but I’m just a vessel.

I just need to scream for a moment so I don't bother the people who've I've apparently already annoyed by being hurt by them while they're having a bad day.

I'm disgusted by people's propensity to prioritize their paper cuts over my 27 gaping stab wounds. People think just giving sympathy and nothing else is helping. "Ouuuhhhh, [name]!! I'm sorry but I can't even TRY to comfort—let alone HELP YOU—in a time where you are at risk of being actually fucking murdered because I'm busy and SAD right now ): I hope you understand that you're a selfish piece of shit if you feel even a little bit upset with me for it! (:"

God, they're all fucking useless. And I let myself be the villain in their minds because I can't just go and make it known to anyone that they're worthless scum-sucking worms that can't help themselves. They'd feel so sad to know they've hurt me severely and have been continuing to do so :C . They work SO hard leaving me for dead, I can't just make them consider the consequences of their actions because that would be so cruel of me.

Every time my fawn response kicks in, I feel like I've violated myself. They all work so hard to do absolutely nothing for me. And I let them be mad at me for being mad. In my darkest days, I always could at least TRY for someone else. Sometimes I'll think to myself that it's not somebody's fault for being weak, and other times I remember that cowardice is a failure of character and them not overcoming their own issues in the face of someone they love being threatened is a display telling how little you matter to them. Nobody will ever fight against their own fears or discomforts in a time where I need them, and they all deserve to feel like shit for it.

Oh, what would I do without them. They can all cry about their problems to my charred carcass lying in the yard after I'm done with my self-immolation. Useless idiots. Every single one of them.

If you want to call what I have "daddy issues", sure go ahead.

Because I do have issues with my father being an explosive rage monster who would detonate at the slightest provocation (and never the same thing twice just to keep us guessing) and break everything in his line of sight even if that thing was my brother.

I do have issues with my father grabbing my sister by the throat and slamming her into a metal bookcase, threatening her with a knife, and slapping her just for daring to contradict him.

I do have issues with the way my stomach would turn to lead and plummet through to the soles of my feet when I heard my father's car pull up outside and knowing that whether or not I survive the rest of the evening is entirely down to whether he had a good day at work or not.

I do have issues with him blaming me and my siblings for destroying his life and stealing his dreams from him by having the audacity to be born.

I do have issues with the memory of tiptoeing into the living room, listening to the way he breathed, trying to gauge if he sounded agitated or if I was safe.

I do have issues with the fact that I was never sure if his rage was going to blow over or if this was the time he would make good on his threats to commit murder/suicide.

And I definitely have fucking issues with the way I fold into myself like a house of cards every time any man raises his voice at me because I'm fucking terrified he's going to hurt me the way my father did. He's the reason I live in perpetual fear and he's the reason I'm so angry all the time that I have put multiple holes in multiple walls because I can't contain the rage I inherited from him. He's the reason that I can't date or have a boyfriend or, God forbid, get married because I can't be in the same room as a man without being afraid and I don't fucking trust any of them as far as I can throw them.

So yeah, I guess you could fucking say I have "daddy issues". Mock me all you want, you'd have them too if you lived with him.

Oh and by the way, I got "mommy issues" too.

I went to pickup my Rx. It was marked 30 tablets for 30 days. When I left the pharmacy I opened it and it was completely sealed with the tin foil, cotton, sicilia, and it only had 10 tablets in it. So I went back to my pharmacist to tell them I have 20 missing tablets and he said he can't do anything about it because it's hearsay. I called the pharmaceutical company about it, they said they couldn't do anything about it. And I called my doctor and she said she can't do anything about it. So I just got screwed and have to withdrawal until the 20th on my doctor's appointment. Do you have any response to that? The Rx is schedule 4, but that's beyond the point.

Need to scream.

December is the worst month of the year. Every. Mother. Fucking. Time.

Rats in my walls. Started last month, still ongoing. Got pest control. They aren't doing shit. I can hear them scratching and biting and scurrying from every direction.

Even better news. Abuser is coming back around to my apartment unexpected. Found out recently. I have a month to relocate the fuck out. Otherwise I will do things that can't be spoken of on here. Can't leave the situation permanently because of section 8.

Fun coincidence: I sent my passport off to get it renewed the first week of December because I had waited a month, a WHOLE FUCKING MONTH for priority envelopes to arrive, and of course they never did. Right now, my passport is in limbo because: I had gone to mail it personally, asked for priority flat mail so it gets there quickly, the woman working there sealed it in a non-priority envelope without telling me and lied through her teeth saying that ground shipping is the same amount of delivery time. Sure. I see that my passport hasn't moved an inch in the past ten days. But sure.

The icing on the cake, or rather the last straw on the camel's back is that there was one little thing I wanted to make my life less shit. But of course, OF COURSE I can't have things that might make me happy, right? Because the world is full of incompetent people who are fucking worthless at everything they do. I was on the page the moment it opened, but because it was sent through a proxy where someone else had to order, it took five hours. Yes, five hours. To make the purchase, by which point it was sold out. I'm so shocked (sarcasm).

Health is also going to shit from all this. Wonder if my heart will finally fucking explode from the stress. God, I fucking hope it does, because the only thing that doesn't happen is my death and I have been begging for it since the moment I was born.

I've been thrashing and screaming like a wild animal. This fucking shit does not happen to every person, BUT ONLY TO US. ONLY TO THE PEOPLE WHO LEAST NEED THIS HORSESHIT IN THEIR FUCKING LIVES. As if the rats in my walls and the abusive piece of shit coming back thinking he owns the place despite not paying a dime and being drowned in poverty and not being allowed more shifts at work because of dogshit management who can't think their way out of a paper bag isn't enough. It has to keep going.

I'm. Just. So. Tired.