u/Evening-Barracuda410

TW:

> Fucked up coping mechanisms. (SH, indulging in traumas, etc.)

> Mild details of CSA.

Like, I can't even remember everything that happened other than the fact that I've been getting all this sexual bullshit for almost a decade. I was just nurtured to be disgusting. I hate how I want more worse things to happen. I hate how I'm trying to chase after my abusers, looking for them in other people, trying to find where they are now and wanting to know why they did that to me. I hate how I'd walk by a previous assaulter of mine, expecting them to touch me again, only to be disappointed when they don't. I hate that I decided to get in contact with predators online and try to get myself groomed. I hate that I used to read disturbing content about things similar to my abuse for years even as a child till I tipped over the heels of puberty because of how it was, pathetically, normalized and romanticized for me!

And for once, I felt a sense of control over it. It felt just how it did when I was younger—the feeling of being groomed was like a first love romance. That's how stupid I fucking was. Because I didn't feel enough unless it was something about my abuse. Unless I was being abused in some way or another.

For years, assault after assault, through one birthday to another, I kept seeking out abuse and knowing that makes me feel uncomfortable, like the wrong person in the wrong body. How could someone enjoy being abused? How could someone find happiness in being hurt? How could I have viewed something so disturbing with love? How could I?

I hate that I now have scars all over my body from being unable to control myself. I hate how disgusting I feel for being comfortable in those kinds of content because it's what feels the most 'romantic' to me, because being abused and whatnot was my translation for love as a child and that it was all I was capable of giving, so no matter how repulsive I felt about it, it was nonetheless, love. To me, and only me, and I couldn't understand why. I liked it, I loved it, so why is it that I can't get over it?

Like I've grown now, albeit a little, and have gotten rid of most of my coping mechanisms. I've known other people who have done similar things in attempts to cope with their own bouts of sexual trauma, and have worked on it myself. AND YET THE MOMENT I SEE SOMETHING SIMILAR TO IT, MY BODY REACTS IN A WAY I DON'T WANT TO AND I HATE IT, I HATE IT SO MUCH, I'M NOT LIKE THAT ANYMORE, I CAN'T AFFORD TO BE DISGUSTING ANYMORE BUT MY BODY JUST WON'T LISTEN TO ME. I feel like a monster and I'm scared I'll end up becoming just like my abusers because of the horrible child I've been up until now. It just proves all the more that I enjoyed everything I went through.

I could've been an editorial writing journalist fighting for my school's honor while balancing my role as a broadcaster.
I could've been a multimedia artist and fully fledged editor, opening commissions and earning myself good money.
I could've been one of the top students in my class, excelling in every subject but my mother tongue.
I could've been as beautiful as my peers, as desired as everyone else is.

But I'm not. Instead I'm growing up at a pace I dislike, learning to control the violence I inherited and the resentment that's only built up. Instead I have to accept that all those that hurt me are now great, successful in leading the life I could have had. Instead I'll lay in bed and cry at how my body only continues to wither like dried up branch and decay like the corpse I should've been long ago, I'll mourn over the last few strings of my fragile heart, and collapse at the feet of those who claim to love me. Of those who have only hurt me. Because freedom is something, for someone like me, can never been guaranteed, not to even be considered by a third party. And sadly enough, I've accepted that maybe, that is how I will lead my life, up until the very day I can finally pass.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
* Details of child Abuse (psychological, emotional, physical, sexual)
* Mentions of CSA/SA
* Bullying

I really don't get it anymore, really. Like, did god create me using an angst prompt generator? Genuinely, how the hell do you mess up someone's life this badly? I know I sound so unserious, maybe even sarcastic right now but as I'm typing this in bed, I can't help but wonder what I did some eons ago to deserve any of this. I'm in senior highschool with thirty years of life experience. Was it not enough to just, I don't know, put me in an extremely abusive family where I had to endure being beaten, tormented, and shamed for 13 years, gave me relatives that drove me in and out of places and also abused us financially, brought me to parents who by far have only sucked me dry by using me as a punching bag and selling whatever I had of value while also refusing to love me as a child?

I don't know, maybe making me sleep in hotter corners of the room as a kid because you loathed hugging me? to the point that I developed insomnia? leaving me behind to be abused by my own uncles that now my childhood memories are actively fading and my physical health declining from the mental toll of it all?

The fact that I was getting assaulted throughout my school days, even from back then to the present time, by teachers and even classmates? That I was ostracized and pushed away for years, slandered by even my own schoolmates and seniors, and have pictures and videos of myself online scattering around? And when I'd be treated like I was an embarrassment to be partnered with so my partners would leave me to fend for myself?

Holy shit. And I feel so bitter because I can't even do anything about it. Everyone who has hurt me has changed, become good people, turned successful. The child me, the teenage me, she's long gone, passed away, and all I can do is cope horribly in her memory because there's no one out there to remember her aside from me.