Miss Silent

She looks down at a broken body that is unrecognizable. Nothing feels connected. Hands to feet, head to spine; it no longer feels like its own. A droid, who has been replaced with obscure parts after each incident of trauma. The brain, overwhelmed, but attempting to rewire itself to all the new pieces. Sparks flying, as she smiles brokenly and no one notices it’s just hiding an avalanche of tears that could flood the world for all of its sins. F**k. She can’t hold it inside anymore. It has to go somewhere.

Have you ever had someone take your soul? Pull it down to the depths of an abyss of sh*t and make you stare right at it while it’s on fire? God, I can’t help but hate him. I can’t help it anymore. The day he dies from his own self destruction will be the day I come back alive. She thinks.

She fought the demons in her sleep; woke up with burns. She fought the devil at her feet; woke up with cold limbs. Awakened to a woman hovering above her face with the brightest yet darkest eyes. And she screamed so loud all the forests would have shaken to the ground. Yet still, no one even heard a sound. They formed their circles all around, laughing and gossiping. She laid down, her head on the concrete, staring at what was left of her body. Staring at the front door, hoping just one genuine person in the world would knock. No one ever came.

They’re right. No one is going to save you from the monsters in your head. No one is going to save you from the monsters outside either. I will never understand why? Why did you have to take what wasn’t yours? I can’t sleep at night without your visits into my fu**king beautiful dreams. I can’t stop fighting this disease you put in my head so I lucid dream. I plant palm trees, cats, and sunshine in literal paths where you haunt my unconscious. I am afraid to sleep alone and afraid to sleep by someone. I am afraid one day you will reach me again. I have been running so long now I can’t feel my feet. Sometimes I wish I could go to heaven already. But I realize I’m here to teach the demons on the ground a lesson.

She’s meeting a woman at noon who is living in an illusion and has no idea. She knows the mirrors will be shattered, time will revert back to normal, and her heart might just feel like it’s going to explode like a bloody supernova. Her eyes may swell so much from crying the nerves behind them could enlarge. The wall’s normal sounds could start to be a threat and every person who passes by her home could be his retaliation. She wants to prevent this all. Miss Silent gives the magic door to escape the ultimate sequence of trauma. That’s her purpose out of all the unnecessary trauma; be the magic in a void.

Her hands move anxiously around a coffee cup. Changing positions every two seconds like the plagued mind on overdrive thanks to this son of a b***h.

He doesn’t probably give a hoot, lounging in his PJ pants, and watching the latest law and order while being unjust trash. Someone should smash the tv set with a hammer and make him looked into a mirror. Miss Silent thinks.

“I don’t understand if I’m being unreasonable. He may not be up to anything. He could be just at work. Maybe this is silly.” The distraught women says.

“Does it feel like someone kicked your stomach?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

After a long pause mixed with fear, she says yes.

“Just let me help but you must trust me more than him. More than any person right now in your life. And it might be the strangest request you might have to fulfill, but everything you know is an illusion. I’m the dose of painful reality that will bring about your awakening.” Miss Silent says with an unshakable confidence.

Love

She’s not a victim anymore but a survivor. She has scars that carry stories forever. At one point in time the sight of them could make the world want to be blind, but now she wears them with grace. Every moment she breathes is a moment where they don’t win. Every word she writes, they see and must face their own false self, created out of the imaginary. She will never be silenced. The illusions once created are theirs to keep, shackling them to the ground and internally she knows they weep. Unable to speak because the truth would break away the fallacy they created for the world to see. The “I never needed her.” “She was nothing to me.”

Love. What is love? She asks. Love does not change when someone is sick, poor or struggling. Love withstands the pressure of all outside forces trying to conquer it. Love does not stand aside when the person you were supposed to protect is being cornered by those who are unworthy of having that power. It defends and defeats those who try to destroy it. And if you walk away leaving a wounded person on a battlefield, what should it be called? Desertion.

But in her case, this desertion brought her resurrection. And oddly enough, she bears scars on three out of four limbs. She carries the weight like a feather, because they ended up creating something that will never lose its light. Will never go to the pits of the darkness again, but understands the necessity of it. She has learned to stand alone and never let another impose on her will. And this was the most valuable lesson of her life. You see? These scars no longer represent the darkness but the will she had to fight for love.

Back Alive

She used to be a sad girl by name

She used to stay up crying, it’s so lame

All the boys who broke her heart never complained

About their own sickness driving her insane

Ohhh, she had it bad

Ohhh, she had the sads

You could see it in her eyes

She wore it like a glove inside

Buried her head in their sea of lies

Until she drowned then came back alive

____

And I don’t hate you

I feel sorry you will never feel love

I feel sorry you cursed the angels above

While the devil carried away your dove

_____

She’s no longer the sad girl you tamed

She’s no longer taking all the blame

All the boys who left come running back again

Trying to find the answer to their pain

Ohhh, she doesn’t have the question

Ohhh, it’s in your confession

You can’t see it but it’s in the obsession

Of caring what they all think when they’re beyond redemption

I stand in my own power now

My logic beyond your comprehension

Embark on my journey

Feel my wings glide amidst all the tension.

No Erase Button

I cannot erase the image from my mind. He had eyes so vacant they could compete with a clear night sky. He was the dark while I wished for a single bright star to manifest; as if it could be a sign of hope. But no such star would ever be seen.

All the good memories now seem like a fabrication of reality. An experience which she was only present for and he was absent. No wonder she felt so alone even in his presence. Pouring love into a fallacy, as if it could save the illusion he created. It became clear all the dark energy around him now consumed the light in his eyes. Until she could no longer recognize who he was; left with the image of a stranger. And he’s now smoking his life away on a lonely bench with no destination. Choosing a slow demise over love and life.

The hardest thing is to love someone but be put in a position where you must chose yourself. The hardest thing to do is to watch someone fall apart and let the universe step in. The hardest thing is seeing someone be loyal to their own lies and enablers while you are left watching the tradegy unfold. And in your heart, you wished they chose a different path. In your heart, lies the aftermath of the image of what they could have been.

My Thoughts on Abuse by Proxy

There needs to be awareness of a phenomenon which can possibly happen to victims of abuse. Especially after they leave the situation and the abuser no longer has access to them or control. It’s called abuse by proxy. This is where third parties are misled into thinking the victim deserves further punishment and act on the behalf of the perpetrator.

Tactics include creating humiliating situations, attempting to gain information to relay it to the perpetrator, spreading false rumors, and trying to turn friends or family against the victim. These methods are incredibly effective at silencing, intimidating and isolating the person who holds the truth. Those who do the dirty work are believing they are correcting a perceived injustice when in actuality they are re-traumatizing a person who is trying to heal.

These people who are doing the dirty work are also in a sense, victims. They have been preyed upon, misled, and now wrapped into a web of lies. If they do finally realize a pattern exists with the perpetrator, they end up feeling remorse for playing a part. Or they risk becoming the target for wrath if they confront the narrative given.

I personally believe based upon my own experiences, this could be one of the many reasons why those who have suffered traumatic situations do not speak out. It feels like a misled army is trying to invade your boundaries, peace, and prohibit you from healing. If those you trusted turn against you, it can be incredibly difficult to face all of this alone. For anyone going through this please know there are people out there who have faced the same type of abuse and will understand. Thank you.

Blindfolded Hypocrisy

Trauma fueled fire

Finding my own desire

Can feel my heart beat

Like a million fires

Can’t quit

This attempt to fit

All the molds

They wanted me to be

All the perceptions they wanted me to see

Distorted my mind into a fantasy

Smiling right at me

So all I have left is a story

 

Oh, blindfolded hypocrisy

Just can’t let me be

Oh, blindfolded hypocrisy

Trying to capture me

But everytime I crawl away

With a piece of your reality

 

Trauma filed day

Avoiding the triggers that may

Haunt my dreams it seems

To the end of May

Sweating through my clothes

Hurting all my bones

Trying to walk before I can crawl

So sick of it all

Trauma filled day

Yelling at my feet

They never were complete

Like two mutant creeps

Unable to fall asleep

Hands on a controller

My virtual consoler

The outside world feels like a boulder

Waiting to crush me

And some days all I can see

Is them laughing over me

But when I stand

I won’t let this be

I won’t let this be.

 

To Help Survivors ❤

How long will you let them control you? How many years did you sacrifice worrying about the people who did not worry about you? How many nights did you cry silently because you did not want people to yell at your tears? How many years went by where you couldn’t focus on yourself because you spent nights waiting for their arrival in fear?

It is time to wipe those tears and embrace what you were always afraid of: giving up on the people who gave up on you. And it isn’t going to be easy reprogramming your mind back to where it was before it all happened. And perhaps, it will never be the same. But know, you survived like a warrior. You came out of a battle some people do not survive and some people will never comprehend. And it isn’t your duty to explain yourself, your reasons for staying, your reasons for going back, and your reasons for loving the people who could never love you back. Forgive yourself. For you had tried to face another person’s demons while facing your own. While trying to survive an already cruelly set up world. And in all the darkness, you brought a light. One so bright, it attracted the lost souls out of the darkness. It was not your fault. And trust me, for years you thought it was, rummaging through self help books, videos, and picking yourself apart to pieces. A task few people attempt to do for a lifetime. In the end, you realized you were not perfect but you were nothing like those who hurt you.

So shine my beautiful survivors. Shine so bright that the world can see you are every color of the rainbow. Shine from the moment your eyes open to the moment they close at night. Even if it hurts to try because you are so exhausted by now. You owe it to yourself more than anyone in this world to realize who you are: a survivor and not a victim.

Now She’s Gone

         Poof! Now she’s gone! Like the song by Felt no one ever knows she references. At least she can admit an ex introduced her to the band, rather than act as if she found it herself. Desiring to look cool to possible dating prospects. Ha ha. Go right ahead, add that one to your playlist as well. Like the other songs she tried to listen to, that you didn’t let her, and post to your facecrap so the next woman can think you can terrific taste in music. More like her taste in music. Rainbow kitten surprise, Kasey Musgraves, Theo Katzman, Chet Faker. The list could go on. I am sure she will eventually see a mutual friend of yours on facecrap post pictures at one of these artists concerts with you. Just know she won’t be jealous. It doesn’t work. She will always find music, venues, and people to hang out with. Go see the bands that are no longer at their prime like the Counting Crows, or ones you had already seen a decade ago but cannot remember for reasons I will not say. You don’t even have the motivation to find your own taste in music. That speaks volumes.

       So go ahead you can try to replace the now ex Fiancée with one of the many women you kept chatting on the side, while acting like you were ready to settle down. Any woman would have seen it as a red flag. And let me make this clear, go ahead with your smear campaign; but she is not a pedophile accuser. The replacement though is nineteen years old and you are in your late thirties. People will judge but you two are perfect for each other. She lies about having a boyfriend, has no self respect, attention seeks and is immature. By the way, so cool to act as if you were always platonic friends, when the reality was far from it. So cool to invite ex dating prospects to events. And “just chatting” with them late hours of the evening while knowing you would be upset if your now ex Fiancée started doing the same.

        Oh, dare I mention the infamous line? “Oh, I would beat a guy if he pet you.” Meanwhile, letting your now ex Fiancée watch your double standards, deep rooted in misogynistic, alpha male stereotypes. You think she was dumb, huh? Not dumb, but maybe dumb for loving you so much she put up with things no normal woman would have. The truth is: she loved you since she was nineteen years old and first laid eyes on you. She saw potential. But as ten years past, you decided to just give up on yourself. Decided to not contribute to society or do anything to better yourself. Instead, it seems you gave up while expecting some kind of miracle to save you from yourself?

         Was she supposed to be that miracle? After you told her she expected people to take care of her, while she went through extensive surgeries? Did you think it did not hurt when you assumed she was a “golddigger.” She worked full time during college, after college, and up until she had to do surgery. Basically since she was sixteen years old. God forbid unseen health circumstances arose that she had to address. So kind of you to judge rather than listen. So kind of you to literally regurgitate her previous abusive exes insults and continue to imbed it into her head? Didn’t think of the fact, you might be reopening wounds rather than leaving the scars she healed alone. And let’s not even get into the fact your own resume hasn’t looked great in ten years, but you were perfectly abled bodied. Throw your stones while living in a glass house, right?

        And one must ask: how many other women were supposed to be a life changing miracle for you? How many ended up hurt? Why do you think it is fair to expect so much emotional support while treating women as disposable once the honeymoon phase wears off? You think telling everyone your exes did to you what you really did to them  isn’t going to be figured out? You think you have people fooled but really the joke is on you. And it is not a funny joke to actually live the way you do. It is sad.

       All us past women once had faith you would tell the truth when asked, but after repeated lie after lie; the trust was gone. You expect to build a solid foundation off of no truth. She had to see with her own eyes your lies to wake up. And when she saw undeniable evidemce: you lied again. Gaslit her like the nineteen forties movie. What was next? A flickering of the lights, then telling her she was seeing things? No one deserves to live that way. No one. Not so you can maintain your façade. She wanted to live in truth, not lies.

      But what really sticks out and probably always will is the way you purposed. The casual handing over of the ring in the car, then the infamous line: “nw you can rub it in my best female friend’s face.” She wishes she could replace it with anything else. As a child, she envisioned a man at least getting on one knee and muttering four words. Such an expectation, right? She knew she was right in feeling like a pawn in a game riddled with jealously inducing antics, based upon your own insecurities. It was as if she wasn’t even a human to you. It was as if you failed to see how embarrassing it would be to explain to other people how you purposed. But looking back, she now sees it as a blessing. She now sees she was lucky to have not married someone who couldn’t even get on one knee like a gentlemen and say four words. Someday, when she finally finds a man who kisses her forehead at night, never wants to see her shed a tear, and actually wants a real commitment, you will probably think: I wish I never let her go. But she won’t try to remember you by then. She will create memories she deserves to have with someone who deserves her.

Miss Voiceless Part One

She runs frantically through the aisles, not noticing how frantic she appears to other people. He will probably be waiting for her when she gets back. A shame, since she hardly ever leaves the apartment. A fight will of course ensue; a raging battle, where all her fears come to life. She went to the store: a betrayal of trust in his delusional eyes. This made her stay at home mostly to avoid an argument. She tried everything to avoid an argument.

There was nothing normal about it. She clung to her pillow at night, silently crying, and hoping her would not hear a sound. He hated when she cried. He hated when she laughed, too!  He looked upon her as if she was auctioned off to him, and had no right to feelings. He wanted to control her, not love her. He wanted to brand her emotionally, to keep her in her place. Like a little doll who never spoke.

His words stayed with her most days. He’d leave to work and sometimes without ever saying goodbye. Other times, yelling at her before he left. She tried her best to keep things up, but he never paid attention. It was the one pair of pants she didn’t wash, the natural wearing of utensils, the way she cleaned up after his laziness, etc. Nothing done was seen and all he could see was the negative perception he wanted to.

This was an emotional death trap he started.  She felt never good enough as a result. She neglected herself as a result. She pondered all about his other options, because she felt like one. The opposite of real love; to treat someone as if they are replaceable. But deep down, he was the one truly hurting, but taking that pain out on her.

Fueled by a narcissistic culture, he praised the weak and was disgusted by the strong. He embraced a misogynistic perspective without being aware of it. His echochamber of madness, affected everything and everyone around him. He influenced others, and to her she felt like it was the 1950’s again for women in some ways.

Although she did not mind some aspects of the 50’s culture, she felt some modern men ideally want a woman who: pays half the bills, takes care of any children, takes care of the house, and cooks. This perspective was unfair in her eyes.

Are most men like this deep down inside? Do some clean and cook alongside their partner? I think it’s rare in my own experiences, but I don’t know about anyone else’s experiences. All I know is teamwork is the best method. No one becomes exhausted that way. 

And that was the truth. He initially exhausted her. When she had a job, he wasn’t considerate. He didn’t care if she got any sleep, cleaned without his help, cooked a full meal and did dishes until midnight. He didn’t care she could lose everything if he couldn’t chip in once on awhile. It wasn’t about building something together, but rather what he could build out of her.

It disgusted her. The way he put so much effort into appearing a certain way. He cared so much about his car, his hair, his smile, his money, and his material possessions. He spoke ill of others who did not embrace his same sentiment. He treated people like dollar signs, not humans. Those who had less, made less money, or were in unfortunate situations, did not have his sympathy. He blamed the poor for being poor, and praised the rich for being rich.

She felt like one of them to him: a poor disappointment. She thought if she had more money, he might actually love her. The thought sometimes made her resent herself, then oftentimes him as well.

Even when I almost had it all, he didn’t even notice anything but himself. She thought.

Now more than ever she had seen the situation for what it was: dehumanizing. As she pulled off each petal of a flower, she imagined letting the past go. It had been months, and his insults still were part of her thought processes. She knew it wasn’t going to be as simple to rewire her brain, as it was to pull pedals off of flowers. But she was one of the ones who woke up, rather than lived in a slumber. And those kinds of people have stories to tell, and voices to be heard.

 

 

 

A Look Into the Milo Situation

I have been aware of Milo Yiannopoulos for quite some time. Intrigued by his confidence, fearlessness, and intelligence. He had a direct voice and said everything everyone wished they could say, but didn’t have the words to as effectively. You can tell he is a very unusual person, that does not come around often but his voice needed to be here. People were afraid to speak up about political opinions. People like Milo did give a voice to the voiceless.

That is why I do not think Milo is a bad person. He could have stepped away and left the movement completely without his voice. But he didn’t. The problem is people tend to think because Milo is in the spotlight he is this sort of superhuman, capable of upholding his strength in every situation. What we witnessed of Milo trying to explain how his abuse taught him how to be sexually proficient, is a victim trying to protect themselves from reoccurring trauma. Perhaps, you think it is cowardly. You have a right to think so. Maybe you feel sorry for him. You have a right to think so. But overall this brings up some interesting questions.

Boys tend to hit puberty later than girls so if pedophilia is having sexual urges towards children that have not yet hit puberty, then boys that are taken advantage of very young are more likely to have not reached sexual maturity. Therefore, there is a flaw in his stance.And I would go further to say it isn’t even that black and white. States define legal adults differently across the country.

The fact is any adult who takes advantage of someone who is not yet a legal adult is not a moral, healthy, and beneficial member of society. Simple. Unless the entire country can agree on one age which would be considered a legal adult nationwide, pedophilia will continue to be based upon which state you reside in. Unfortunately I think this leads to confusion on the matter. Some are convicted while others are not. Perhaps, coming up with a general consensus of what is a legal adult nationwide could help define laws more specifically and make things like social security, IRS run a bit smoother as well.

I believe Milo is sadly a victim. How could he possibly know what he wants sexually at thirteen years of age? Most kids are developing interests, hobbies, and thinking about their future. It is not biologically possible nor psychologically possible to comprehend abuse at that age.

Unfortunately, we live in a day and age where even the strong have some weak spots in their armor. Everyone has a different way of coping when it comes to reacting to uncomfortable questions.

So is it okay to use humor to hinder the effect of trauma? Use your own moral compass. Is that considered denial? The only person who truly knows that answer is Milo himself. If he is content with his lifestyle choice, then he is content. If not, he needs to figure out why.

His comments suggest to me, he may have some personal issues to deal with or perhaps he has developed a coping mechanism. Regardless, I suggest people read the entire transcript before reacting. Then draw your own conclusions.