Writers Corner

    Abuse is the New Suicide


    I don’t know about you but I can’t see in the dark. So, I’m ashamed to tell anyone what I have allowed in my life. A slow, unconscious suicide, walking in a shadow of death. But seeking relief from other pains, from other things is why I started to self medicate with self hate. You see I had this big hole in my heart. Pierced by the first man, perforated by the next man, punctured by another man but lacerated by this man. Yeah this man ripped inside my guts yet the visible wounds were invisible wounds that only I could see. Sometime I wished that he had gone ahead and beat me, kill me. Cause the wounds were only visible to me. And I begged to die each time I called him back, each time I paid his ends, each time I internalized his rage, each time I turned the page and let him in my story. I knew he would never change. I knew he would never change. He was mostly cold, making it obvious that I was too old. Hiding me then wanting me then hiding me. His patterns were the same, almost identical. Using code words like victim, emotion and feelings to set me back. I was trapped. Talking about baby mamas and dramas. Narsasstic to a tea, he knew very little about me. Allowing me to go broke and confusing me that their was some hope. Even saying you could be my wife, you and her could be in my life. I knew it wasn’t right, as I suffered and suffered. But the real abuse came with the public shame. Always posting my name. Because he was so logical. I was illogical. Gang raping me online bringing others in to support the hate for me. Yet I longed for him for a very long time. I long for him. But then the abuse got really intense. “I hope you die bitch” became his pretense, “yeah you and  your kids”. I couldn’t see but I knew he wouldn’t change. I realized I was dying when his words strangled me. I knew it was suicide when I kept going back for more. I knew death was near when all he had to do was tell me what I wanted to hear. My last breath came when he stopped calling my name. Like an addict I tried to understand, acting like a fiend that couldn’t keep a man. And when others would show affection to me, I would turn them away. Finally I died. No longer accepting his lies. Abuse, stretch out to suicide. I performed it myself. Not necessary to explain how but his abuse made it so easy to end it all. I was already dead so it was easy to nail the coffin of my fall. 

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    Friday, 15 November 2019
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