My adult life has been hard
No one prepared me for this shit
Most people start their adult lives at 18. Mine started at 17
I was in high school working a full time job at a ratchet as fast food restaurant
I was homeless four months before I was able to find a place of my own.
That’s how I seen it
I rented a room to an older couple
Living in my car taught me a lot
It’s something I hope I never have to do again
Living in that room made me feel alive
Like I was actually doing something
Like I was not another statistic
And then shit went sideways
I lived in that room with my boyfriend
My boyfriend was an asshole
He fucked so many other girls
And then came home to sleep on my bed
When I left him he decided to become abusive
The first night it happened was frightening
He pushed me into a wall and then it’s all a blur.
I remember trying to runaway.
I did my best to jump out the window. He just pulled me back in.
I’ll never forget what he said to me. I screamed for help and he replies, “you think anyone’s gonna help you?”
Something in me died that day
And then it kept happening
I tried to leave until he started threatening me. He refused to let me be free
I was his, he said.
Anything, everything i did wrong had a consequence and I knew it
So I ran away
From that point forward I just ran away
My whole adult life has been me escaping him
Running from him
I’ve consumed so many drugs in such a short period of time
I hooked up with so many different people male and female
My life was a mess
I was a mess
There’s always a reminder
I had a miscarriage when I was 17
It was his
He never left my side
I’ll always remember this
I was a victim of domestic violence and I hardly ever talk about it
So far I’ve been homeless, abused, used, confused, and on drugs
All by 18 years old
At 19 nothing changed
Drugs were my go to
Sex was always a call away
I don’t know where I went wrong
I don’t know where I let it all fall
There it goes again I
I didn’t do anything wrong
I am not to blame
But I still do it
I runaway
I always runaway
I don’t know why I still do it
I guess part of me still feels the need to escape him
I got tired of sleeping around, so I settled down
It made me feel better about what I had done. Like it was a clean slate.
As if being a sexual being was something to be ashamed of
And then I ended up married
At 20 I ran away some more
Hundreds of Miles away from home now
Living a married life now
My life still a mess
Minus the drugs and different men
And then one day I almost die
And I almost met my maker
But I didn’t
There I was with a swelled brain and no mobility
Learning to walk again was hard but I did it fast
This thought never leaves my mind
I gotta be better
I gotta do better
I have to be somebody
I can’t be another stereotype
I refuse to be another statistic
Something that died when I became a victim was reborn when I almost lost it all
My life is not a mess anymore
But I am still a mess
Minus the drugs and strangers
Sort of
I’m married now
So my life is different
I am still trying to figure this all out
It’s not easy
I’m always alone
So I remain trapped in my thoughts
I remain stuck in the past
But I’ll figure it out
I have to be somebody
21 has to be better right?
I don’t know why I believe I need to be something, somebody
I assume it’s the abused side of me
I just need to be me
I know that
Whoever me is is okay
Except it’s not
Not in my head
It’s always my fault
I’m always doing something wrong
Life can’t be this hard for one individual
The universe can’t always be against me
So here I am still
Married, confused, used, abused, alone and forgotten.
It was supposed to be a clean slate
A redo
Instead it feels like a job
Instead I feel alone
Instead I feel incomplete
Instead I am what I think I’m supposed to be and I am not who I want to be
Adulting is hard
When does it get better?
I assume soon
I feel alive again
I’m not whole but I’ll get there
I’m still alone but I like solitude
There’s something peaceful about silence
There’s something peaceful about knowing you’re going to be okay
No one prepared me for this shit man
I never thought this would be my life
I never imagined this is who I’d be
I’m an emotional, disturbed individual with some serious issues but aren’t we all?


Be happy

Have you ever asked yourself why?
Just really questioned why?
Why you are the way you are?
Why you live the life you live?
Why you like certain things?
Dislike certain things?
Why you feel happy when you see a happy child?
Why you feel sad when someone dies in a movie?
Why you feel on top of the world some days?
But want to crawl into a cave other days?
I have.
I do.
I question everything.
My mom says my nickname as a child was “porque” which translates to why. She said I asked why for everything.
Why is the sky blue?
Why do I have brown eyes and other kids have blue eyes?
Why am I 5 and my brother is 10?
Why do I have to go to school?
Why can’t I express myself the way I’d like?
Why do I pretend to be happy when I know I’m not?
Why do I hold back my tears when I know I don’t have to?
Why do I try to be strong?
Why do I feel that I need to be strong at all times?
Why do I live this particular life?
Why has god given me such a hard life?
Why did I have sex at only 13 years old?
Why is my body count higher than my age?
Why did i try all those different drugs?
Why did I let men use me?
Why did I use others?
Why did I let myself get abused?
Why do I blame myself for being abused?
Why do I still look for my abuser?
Why do I jump from relationship to relationship?
Why do I feel what I’m feeling now?
Why do I have to question everything?
Why can’t I just be happy with the life I was given?
Why can’t I just be happy?
Because I don’t live the life I want
Because happiness comes from within
Because misery loves company
Because to appreciate the sun you gotta know what rain is
Because I’m living everyone’s life but my own

Latching onto me

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.