Friday, 11 January 2008
The lucky Star
"You obviously weren't born under a lucky star!"
"Obviously not"
"I have a feeling your sad"
"What?"
"Sad"
"Neeh, I mean, it could be worse"
"But I feel bad for you"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Oh, well, don't"
"No, but I do"
She walked fast.
So fast that anyone in her way would have to clear the way, seeing as she obviously didn't intend on stepping aside for anyone.
She didn't have that angry walk some people had, that made you frightened of being in their way, more a scared running away kinda look, that made people around feel for her, and step aside voluntarily.
She had on a beige tee, blue saggy pants, beige 60's cap and her long black hair, that had been straight down, all messed up under her cap.
She was running away. She was running home.
Finally home, she was greeted by the stench of dog litter.
Damn, she had hurried, but during the nights abuse, she really didn't own this.
Being late for her poor dogs with wiggly tales, greeting her with barks and twirling around her feet.
"You poor guys, you" she said, with tears filling up her eyes.
"I'm so terrible sorry, mummy didn't mean to leave you alone this long"
She sits down on the floor in between the litter stench and the wiggling tails. She cuddle them, and while they calm down, she whispers; "I would have given anything to be home with you guys instead -I prayed so hard to wake up next to you, that this was a horrible nightmare. I don't ever wanna leave you guys again. Ever. I'm so sorry" She held them both and felt like she's about to start crying, so she put the leashes on them instead and walked out in the sun.
Summer was here, but right now, she could have needed rain.
She wanted to cry so bad.
"Hey, are you busy?"
"I might be"
"oh..."
"Is it something important?"
"Yes. I mean, no... We can talk later"
"oh, OK. Later then"
She laid on her bed. She had just gotten out of the shower for the fifth time since she got home. Still; She didn't feel clean.
Her arms and legs was red after scrubbing way to hard, still not hard enough.
There had been blood in the shower, which made her feel even filthier.
She had put on clean clothes four times, she had brushed her teeth five times, she had thrown up four times, she had walked the dogs four hours, she had made three calls, she had seen it all on repeat in her head sixteen times, but she had lost zero tears. Her dogs was lying next to her, and she felt lucky they did, when she was about to make one more call. She needed to tell him. She needed to so bad. The only thing was, could she? If she told him, it would change the way he looked at her, forever. It would make him worry about her. Wonder if she would try one more time, and maybe succeed at finishing her self. He would either never leave her alone again, or he would leave her forever. She held her puppy tight and sighed. She couldn't tell him. She fell asleep next to her dogs, with only a towel covering her naked abused body.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"You pull away the second we touch"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize"
"Well, you do, so what's wrong?"
"Nothing, don't worry about me"
"I know you, there is something"
"I don't wanna talk about it"
She woke up early. Really early. She had fallen asleep with only a towel around her and she was freezing even though it was in the middle of July. She walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She had an urge for tea. Tea. Her comfort drink for years. She could poor down pint after pint. Good thing she wasn't comfort drinking alcohol. She had two weaknesses when she was down; Tea and candy. And now it was tea time, before walking down to the park with the dogs. She walked into the bathroom and glanced at the reflection from the mirror. She looked tired. Sad. Older maybe? She got into the shower but instantly felt so uncomfortable and dizzy, she had to get out in a hurry. What was that all about? Suddenly it felt as though the glass-walls were coming closer to choke her. Angst. The kettle hauled at her and she ran back into the kitchen to poor herself a cup of tea. Finally. She sat down on her bed. The sunlight came into the room, through the drapes, and made her feel safe. Her dogs were still asleep, and the harmony in the room was so soothing it was unbearable. She felt strange. It all felt so terrible strange. How could she find harmony in a day after a total dark and awful nightmare? How was that possible? And even stranger; When the nightmare was for real?
"Why are you running?"
"I don't know"
"What are you running to?"
"I don't know"
"What are you running from?"
"Myself, the past, him, the future"
There was alot of people in the park. Dogs too. People were BBQ-ing and laughing, drinking beers and enjoying the lovely mid-summers day. She wore huge dark shades as she walked away from all the people. Even the ones she knew. Even the ones with dogs. She didn't feel like talking about the beautiful day, the lovely summer and this and that. She heard her name called from behind. It was one of her closest dog-owner friends. He asked her what was wrong, seeing as she always said hi. She didn't tell. She just excused herself with being tired lately. He didn't buy it, but he pretended to as he pointed out that he had never, in those 3 years they had known each other, seen her wear sunglasses. He knew something was wrong, and she had a feeling of being a terrible liar, as he walked away. Transparent. That's how she felt. Like everyone in the park could see what had happened the previous night. She shivered, then shook the bad feelings off.
"Have you red the article in the paper today, darling?"
"Which one?"
"The one about the rape thing down town?"
"Nope. I can't say I have. I saw it on the news though"
"Hunny, you have to promise me you'll be careful in the city"
"I will, Mom. I will"
Posted by BaBy-G
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
The spare keys
One of the things that's a certain sign that they don't trust you, is when your not left with the option to choose if you want someone to have your spare set of keys, or not.
Really. Think about it.
Your a grown up, you have a home, you have your life and your privacy inside those walls, and still, someone has the keys to enter that, whenever they feel like there is trouble inside those walls.
And you didn't even get to say who should have that right, that power over your life, that hold on you.
They were just taken as a reminder.
"You can't be fully in charge of your life -We don't trust you to know your own good"
Could it be any clearer?
Posted by BaByG
The reality is what sounds like fiction
She walks alone in a dark alley.
She hears a sound.
She's suddenly thrown into a bush by a man with a knife,
that force her clothes of.
She cries a silent cry, as his knife is at her throat, and he's inside her.
That's a rape story for you.
She says goodbye to her friends at the coffeehouse, and decide to walk home.
She has to walk through a Forrest.
It's late.
It's night.
She hears footsteps.
She walks faster.
The steps behind her walks faster.
She runs.
Someone behind her, runs.
She sees a car.
She runs towards car.
Man comes out of car.
Man behind her push her into the car.
That's another rape story.
She's not feeling so good, so she doesn't want to go home alone felling like this.
She tells her pal that she's not doing to good.
He give her a joint.
She takes on puff.
Wow, not a good idea, she's feeling even worse.
Good thing she's at her homeboys place.
He says she can lay down on his bed, and dizzy and unwell as she feels, she lays down.
The bed spins.
She hears him talking to someone in the living room.
She feels a seizure coming.
Suddenly he's there and
he kiss her, as she knows; She's gonna have a seizure.
Good thing he knows about them, so he knows what to do.
She let's it come.
She doesn't fight it.
Well, to be honest, she has yet to learn how to fight it.
What happens during a seizure is that she get's trapped inside her self.
She knows what happens, she feels, hear, everything, but she can't respond.
He carry her into the sofa in the living room.
He talks to the Swedish guy that's sleeping there.
Well, at least he was sleeping.
They talk back and forth about what's happening to her.
Her homie says that she has told him about this, and it's not dangerous.
She manage to whisper "call 911"
They talk about how she's probably just drunk.
She tries to say call 911 again, but all that comes out is "911"
Well, that should say it all, and she's gone.
She comes back and starts hyperventilating.
She's trapped now.
She cant speak.
All she can do in this world right now, is to follow her body's decisions
of breathing fast, then collapse, breathe fast, then collapse...
She hopes they'll call 911.
She can hear all their saying.
She feels him
pushing her to try to wake her up from whatever's happening to her.
She couldn't respond if she tried.
The paramedics always slap her, and it always hurt like hell, and she can't even frown.
"I can obviously do whatever to her" her buddy says to the swedish guy.
Then she feels her pants being pulled down.
"What is he doing" she thinks to her self, well knowingly she can't communicate in any form or way during a seizure.
The swedish guy laughs and says something about it being embarrassing being that drunk.
"I'm not drunk, you idiot" she thinks as she feels the breathing stop.
Her buddy suddenly put something up her ass.
It's a finger. Is it two??
"hey, what the fuck are you doing, you idiot? Stop it" She cries. Inside.
Damn, she could so need some strength to beat up that idiot.
The Swedish guy notice that she doesn't breathe anymore and suggest calling 911.
He's turned down.
"Well, then I'm leaving, no chance in hell I'm staying here while a girl dies here"
"Oh, don't go, call 911" She prays.
No one can hear her, and he leave.
He pulls a blanket over her and sit down behind her.
She's laying on her tummy.
"Why did he lay me down like this? Why doesn't he call 911? I told him to call 911 if this happened"
Her breathing begins again.
"oh this is so scary, can't you just call 911? I don't know how much I can take, I feel so bad"
She wish there was a way of getting herself out of this. But how? She had tried to so many times, and she's like paralyzed.
He pulls down her pants, again
"No, what are you doing to me?"
and suddenly she feels something there.
"my god, it's his tongue" she fights a battle inside.
"let me wake up, let me beat him up, let me out of myself" She screams inside.
She cry. Inside.
She stops breathing.
Then she hears a sound "oh god, I'm rescued. Let it be one of our friends getting home!!"
He pull up her pants and goes to the door to check.
He knows he's doing something wrong.
Why the hell is he doing this?
She hope he'll go to bed and leave her alone.
He doesn't.
He sits back down, pull her pants down again and then he put something else up her ass.
It hurts so bad.
He's doing her. There. While she's sick.
She's so scared. She want's to atleast cry, but she can't even blink her eyes.
He hurts her so bad.
"stop it, stop it, stop it" she screams, in side, crying and fighting so hard to be able to make him stop.
She can't do anything.
Nothing.
She's being butt-raped, and she can't do anything at all!
"let me atleast not feel anything" she prays, but she feels.
She hears.
She can't stop him.
He's done.
He pulls out and pull her pants up, and walks away.
She wishes there was something she could do, but still she can't do anything.
" I gotta get out of this place, let me out"
Nothing.
She's trapped inside her self.
Tears run down her chin now.
She has fought so hard.
There is no breath left.
Then she pass out.
She wakes the next day. Early. She sits silently "Is anyone here? is anyone up?"
There is no sound.
She finds her bag and goes to the toilet. So silent.
There's blood.
It was real.
She runs out into the sun and run towards home.
How could this be?
They had known eachother over 10 years.
Had she been so cruel to him on the past, that she deserved this?
Had she done anything really bad to him?
She couldn't say she had.
She though all was cool between them.
How could he do this to me?
And..
What do I do now??
That was my rape story....
i morgen klokken 13.40 10/1
poli, gastro kirurgisk.
Posted by BaBy-G
Fucking Negativity
I am a positive person.
Indeed!
I wouldn't be here, if I wasn't!
But my writing is fucking negative!
And harsh!
It's just because I need to get the shit out somewhere!
And HERE is a perfect place, so I
can keep being the positive, optimistic self, that I am!
Posted by BaBy-G
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
The chosen one
Their all chosen to live.
Then it's up to them what they'll get out of that thing, called life.
It's a cold morning, sometime in early January.
The dogs were sleeping soundly, close -very close to each other, and
she tucked them in her duvet and some blankets.
They glanced at her, then closed their eyes again.
No need to make them get up, even though I can't sleep, she thought, and made some ice-coffee.
She sat down in her beanie bag, and as she did so, her reflection met her in the window, and she was drawn to the mirror.
Her face looked so puffed.
Her lips was bigger, her eyes smaller, the skin over her eyes was huge.
She didn't feel well.
At all.
She sat back down and drifted away into her own mind.
What was the random reality really about?
When did it all become so random?
Contacting friends had become the most random thing ever.
If she really needed to reach someone, she would use the old fashion way; the phone.
But the necessity of the reaching had narrowed down to a comment
here and a comment there on different kinds of homepages.
Or, if more personal, she would write the occasional mail.
But one thing had come out of it all;
She knew who she would consider to be close friends.
Since she got sick again, she had not heard from anyone but her best friend, who always wanted to drop by to say hi.
Of course she always got a "sorry, I don't have the energy", but at least she had called and asked to come to visit.
And then there was the BFF, who always joined on walks and came by almost every day.
But the rest had gotten silent.
It had been 5 months, and no word from those she spent each and every spare time with.
The ones she had always been there for.
Gone, again.
Like the other times when she had gotten sick.
Not a call, not a visit, maybe a comment.
Maybe. One.
She thought about the last year.
It had been such a great year.
And such a nightmare.
The good things;
She had gotten the pup of her dreams.
She had gotten new medication that made her stop drinking alcohol everyday.
And even better; it had also made her stop taking pills.
She had gained weight, and gotten her weight to stay stabile.
She had fought her angst so much, she almost felt like she had won over it.
She had gotten so well, she thought she would stay that way...
The bad things;
She got sick again.
First for 2 months, then for 5 months.
She got raped. Again.
She had alot of seizures, and they had gotten so bad, she feared for her life when she got them now.
She had lost her hope of becoming 100% well.
Like she said; One step forward. Two steps back.
She would cry if she knew how to.
Her tears had dried out.
They were a no show.
Like so much else....
Posted by BaBy-G
Entitled
If there was anything to say, I would say it.
If there was anything to do, I would do it.
If there ONLY was anything to say or do...
But there's not...
Posted by BaBy-G
Thursday, 22 November 2007
Download
Yes, it would be easy if the brain was like a computer hard-drive.If you need more space, delete whatever you don't need, if you need sertain programs, download them either free or pay for it.Downloading NOW ---- 45% completed!
Posted by BaBy-G
Saturday, 17 November 2007
Sleepless
I can't sleep.It's haunting me again.Lately it's been more often than before, and I figure it might have something to do with these new medicines I'm on. I don't know, but at night, when I'm curled up in bed, I start shivering and I hear voices. Also.. I can't lay belly-down. Then I'm in the same position as I was when he raped me. I can't sleep like that...I wonder if he knows what he did to me. How much he hurt me....Fuck, I would so ruin his life if I didn't have a conscience. Sadly for me; I do...I just wanna take away his comfort while sleeping. Deprive him of the same thing he stole from me. No comfort and appreciation of darkness, silence and closed eyes. Non at all...I'm not that cold hearted though. And THAT fact kills me inside.How come I don't have the hate inside to make his life miserable?Why don't I have it in me??I have never been especially kind, but now I'm a fucking saint. And for what?For who?The devil??I can't figure it out.Can't figure myself out.How can I as a woman let this slide?How can I ever move on if I never address this properly?How can I look in the mirror, knowing that I don't have the pride left to stand up and say;Don't fucking mess with me?Don't I have any self worth? So apparently I don't. Not anymore...But who can blame me?Is it my fault I got abused as a little girl?My fault that bastard drugged me on vacation?My fault I thought I was being driven home?My fault I got a seizure in a friends apartment???Tell me how the fuck I can look in the mirror, well knowingly THIS has happened to me?It has to be something wrong with me.It has to....I have no explanation. No nothing.I feel like a fucking train wreck.FUCK!And I am the haunted one....Release me...I can't hold on much longer.Every bone in my body wishes me dead, and still I hold on just to feel bad and sick everydy.All I wanna do is throw up. Weird huh?You try the images inside my head for 24 hours, and tell me...WOULD YOU GO ON WITH YOUR LIFE???COULD YOU???If yes, then tell me how to...I'm so lost!
Posted by BaBy-G
Sunday, 11 November 2007
Fuck the reflections
Are we looking for something that is not thereOR are we waiting in vain?I had recently been in a foul mood. Swinging up and down like a swing on a swing-set.I had tried to hide the fact that I was moody and a bit unstable, but it didn't seem to take.Transparent?So, I found that I had to do something, and that something had really helped -for a little while anyways.I ignored the fact that everything seemed painful, and then used some foundation on my face and especially on the dark bags under my eyes.Bags? More like suitcases. Huge and made my eyes look so tired and made ME look so old.-I had grown older lately, in which the suitcases under my eyes was a total destructive obvious indication of.The inscription on my mirror did actually help tho. I didn't care as much.Still, I cared enough to cry each time I happened to walk past it and got a glimpse of myself. I didn't like that. It wasn't comfortable yet. Would it ever be?I wasn't to sure.I just put a long towel over the mirror trying to hide from it.I could never hide, even windows reflected my appearance.At this point it seemed as though all I did was avoid me. And that's not as easy as it should be.To not meet me or my eyes, I would have to skip the foundation and the make-up routine, and I couldn't.Not completely -But I didn't spend a long time in front of the mirror. I rushed it as though the devil was behind me.Through this time something strange happened as-well, but I didn't know what to make of it.I started to loose my hair.Not just a little, I looked like I had been on chemo for a few weeks. Big chunks of hair were missing and left blank spots around my head. Not on the top, luckily, so I could hide it. It felt bad.And it didn't look good either. Nothing did.So looking in the mirror just got even worse.I was on the verge of giving up when it happened.Now, I have turned the back on me a couple of times.Done and reacted the way I believed was the right way, and the only way I knew how to.It had been a rough couple of years, and I had now left them behind me. I was insecure and didn't know how to live in a normal fashion. I had gone from being an observer of life, to actually live my life my self. How do one do that? So unfamiliar, yet the only thing that really makes sense.The thing that happened was a total life-altering experience. Well, it was awful to be honest.I got raped. And yes, lightening can strike twice. Sadly.And what I did about it was the most life-altering disition I would ever have to make.You see, this could easily had made me start loosing weight again, but I decided that this was not the way I wantedto deal. So instead I got healthier.Understand those who can -because I surely don't.There is something really scary about loosing your hair when you a girl. Ha, I know for a fact that even guys freak out about it. So safe to say I was.I am...Currently, I am freaked out!I have had so many rough times, I can't no longer count them, nor remember them all.It's a relief, I know, but it's also a tid bit horrifying.To be continued under blog "sleepless"
Posted by BaBy-G
more to read at my previous blogs;
http://randomrealnessandsuch.blogspot.com/
