There is no Escape

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I know I am broken when I look back at my past. I can catalog the people who have hurt me, whether they actually did or whether I made it up for whatever reason my twisted mind created, I have a history of crawling back to them. I am so lonely and unable to make friends that I cling to the ones that tolerate me and hope that they don’t wake up and realize what a bitch I am. I am broken.

There is only one person I haven’t crawled back to. Yet, I still feel the need in my chest when I see them to go back and apologize and take the blame. I believe that when I meet someone and care for them I give them a piece of myself without caring for the consequences. So even when they break me, when I try to leave them behind I feel empty and lost.

There are others that truly did nothing wrong and yet I feel so much hatred for myself that I create conflict between us in order to make myself feel pain. Never do I think about how I hurt them when I create these rifts. I am the most selfish person I know, without a doubt. I say cruel things without thinking, I let my temper run rampant. I blame others when I should take the blame myself. At my deepest foundations I am an awful person. I try to lie to myself sometimes to feel better. I tell myself that I am not that bad and that maybe I am someone other than who I am.

I never realize the consequences of my actions until afterwards either. I say something or do something and immediately after realize how awful it was of me to say it or do it but it never stops me from doing it again. I incessantly apologize but only for shallow things and only because I am desperate for attention, for validation and for compliments. I have never once felt wanted or loved and crave that feeling, so I go to those who put up with me and put myself down until they feel obligated to try and make me feel better. It never works.

I don’t even know why I am writing this. Maybe it’s for myself to try and get rid of that aching feeling in my chest, or maybe it’s for those I take advantage of but will never be brave enough to fess up to it. Maybe it’s me realizing that after I escaped my abuser, I turned into one.

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