You never realize the severity of your problems until one day you do. I thought depression was gone. I thought I was okay. Until I realized I’m always okay. Everything is always okay. I don’t talk back. I don’t start problems. I always compromise. I break bits and pieces of myself every time. But it’s okay. Except it’s not.
Before him, I used men. I used sex to fill the void in my life. I used men and they used me. I never thought anything of it. It was just sex. Sex was just sex. For me anyway. I like the different touch; I like the different skin; I like the different feelings. Then one day I stopped.Except I didn’t.
During men, I used drugs. I used drugs to get me high, to get me numb. I built my tolerance and didn’t even know it. I loved being numb. Drugs were my escape. They filled a void. Not THE void, but a void. Drugs were fun. Drugs are addicting, so I stopped.Except I didn’t.
In between being numb and being used, I learned that I don’t feel pain. Physical atleast. My pain tolerance is really high. Or I was just always too high. I stopped feeling. I stopped feeling boys & I stopped feeling high, so I started purposely inflicting pain. I got a tattoo. I got a shit load of tattoos. I wanted to feel again. Except I didn’t.
I was okay with being used. I was okay with using men for sex. I was okay with being numb because I was so low I wanted to be high. I was okay with piercing my skin with needles & ink to feel anything but numb. Except it’s not okay & it never was.
He was supposed to make it all okay. Except he didn’t. Instead I broke pieces of myself everyday to fill his void. All to make him okay. So I never stopped being used. I never stopped being numb. I never stopped using drugs, I just found a new one. And it’s not okay. It was never okay. And I am not okay. Depression never left. I just learned to live with it. I learned to hide it. And now I can’t anymore. Now he can see that I’m not okay and I never was.