I wake up covered in blood and wipe away my tears. It’s not me I tell myself it’s the disease. Looking around I hope that my reality has changed. If you could wake up anywhere where would you be. All I want is to somehow be back in the 90’s. Nobody understands me here. Fitting in means trying to find the right comment or compliment to appease the trolls. My head swirls, the lack of contents in my stomach threatens to come up. My eyes refuse to stay open. Please make this stop. I don’t want to become one of those horrorific mom’s that has morphed her son into a human companion. What did I do to end up here. Please don’t make me wake up here. Let me close my eyes and go back home I have people I have waited my whole life time to see.

I can’t replenish my fluids fast enough as the tears pool around my face. Never in my wildest fantasies of being a child was this ever the outcome. I don’t want a do over I want it to be done. It’s not that I don’t love my family I love them very much but here in this lifetime they don’t love me. I had the thought yesterday of wanting to end my life. I thought over every scenario possible. I thought about my aging Dad and how much he hates. I thought about every possible way that I broke his heart to warrant this outcome. Kurt Cobains lyrics lull me back to sleep,

“Do it and do it again
Waste me
Rape me, my friend
I’m not the only one.”

Maybe its better this way that the last time my husband kissed me was on our wedding day. It just confirms what the rest of the world already knows about me. I am just this vile piece of wasted skin that died that morning when my daughter was sucked out of me. For the next 30 years I became this empty shell incapable of being deemed worthy enough for any human compassion. Please if I can go anywhere… It’s funny how my world now revolves around one of the most dysfunctional grunge unions back then. Nothing stills my anxiety like listening to Courtney,

“I want to be the girl with the most cake
I love him so much it just turns to hate
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake
And someday, you will ache like I ache. I am doll parts, bad skin, doll heart
It stands for knife
For the rest of my life.”

Can you cut out my heart? Please don’t make me use it. Please take it with you. I don’t want to know an existence where my Dad is no longer here and I am destined to live out the tortured memories of how much he hated me and my son. My Dad is my lifeline. Without him I have no pulse. Please don’t make me live the next part of my existence knowing that the opportunity of loving him again is gone. I have lived so long in isolation before COVID was a thing. Please take me with you. I need to see who is there on the other side. Is anybody waiting for me? Does anybody care? Right now the dreams I have of being Daddy’s Little girl can maybe come true? I am a good person right? Just because I was raped in my teens, then in my 20s, then for the final time in my 30’s that doesn’t make me a slut does it? Or the alcohol and drugs that became my friend trying to help me survive. I guess my Dad and his wife are right I am worthless. Who would ever look at me and see me as anything but the piece of garbage I have become. Before I die can you play catch with me or maybe chase the cows across the field one last time before I have the courage to say goodbye? I didn’t mean to be bad I just wanted so desperatly to be loved.

It, didn’t help that I gravitated towards the first narcissitic asshole that wanted to use me for my paycheque. As soon as my student loan came in he was gone. Drinking till closing time, sleeping with my friends, even issued the final blow into insanity by taking the last gifts my Grandmother ever gave me as he left for the last time. It wasn’t you rightit was me. I was the one left all alone as your ribs I had cooked you for dinner were now reduced to ash. The 26er of vodka half finished as the clock read 10 pm and you were still not home. It didn’t matter that you were off at 5 cuz I was playing my favourite drinking game…a shot a minute till my eyes closed. I guess it’s my karma because all I wanted was to love you as the past slaps me in the face as you praise the on-line gods as your new girlfriend is the best cook and provider and all I ever was was shit.

That’s all I truly am is shit. I sit here in silence in this invisible prison I find myself in. I cry but nobody ever sees me. I die and all anybody sees is themself. I wish I knew what waits for me out there. No matter who I am, how hard I try or who I become I will always be that little girl begging somebody to notice her before it truly is too late.

I wonder what I did to deserve this life because all I feel is pain. I want to close my eyes and open them only when I am in the arms of someone who loves me. I guess God decided I wan’t worthy enough of being the rib of an equal partner as even in marriage I walk alone.