i hate
that
my brother
is a
trigger.
Get Help is an independent, mission-centric organization, committed
to elevating the treatment industry through the democratization of
trustworthy and objective information about treatment facilities
and the integrity with which they operate.
http://www.gethelp.com
http://www.gethelp.com
If we had met in another lifetime, I
would’ve known which steps to take in life. I
would’ve known although he was not my father, it felt the
same when his fist collided with my face, when his fingers tore
off tufts of my hair. I would’ve known this was not love.
I would’ve never called it love in the first place.
“
Always been
you;
written by; Christine Vega (me)
Kept saying
"NO"
And you got upset...
After you brought up your hand
putting it across my face
NOT out of defense
But to show dominance and power
because you are a "MAN"
I said to you
"Please stop! I'll do anything!"
and you called ME
"PATHETIC"
But the pathetic one is YOU
The worthless one is YOU
The broken one is YOU
The weaker one is YOU
It's always been YOU
written by; Christine Vega (me)
Kept saying
"NO"
And you got upset...
After you brought up your hand
putting it across my face
NOT out of defense
But to show dominance and power
because you are a "MAN"
I said to you
"Please stop! I'll do anything!"
and you called ME
"PATHETIC"
But the pathetic one is YOU
The worthless one is YOU
The broken one is YOU
The weaker one is YOU
It's always been YOU
You only liked my hair long, said I'd look prettier with
my hair blonde, and more feminine with my nails done. You didn't
like my weight gain and got jealous when I tried to change. You
didn't like my clothing choice, you said black looked better, I
couldn't go with another, because black showed off my slimmest
poise. You could paint a picture so vivid yet you showed no
commitment, to us, our future, our family. I spent 3 years trying
so hard to be the best for you that I forgot about the best of
me. You made me contemplate my fashion choice, my personality, my
body, my existence. I was your puppet on a string. You
manipulated me, cheated on me, pressured me, belittled me,
restrained me, pushed me, punched me, choked me... and still, I
tried to be the best me, for you. But when was it going to be
enough? I was left with two friends. Both females. Why only two?
because YOU didn't like MY friends. Trying to be the best for you
became tiring, I was beginning to feel more and more worthless as
a human being as time went on. I went seeking comfort in a
vulnerable state with a person who has already hurt me in
multiple forms, why? for answers. I wanted answers, and he
answered them- "The relationship was dull, you were dull." Wow.
Talk about a blow to the gut. But then came the apology. "You
deserved better than me, you deserve better than him, you are
beautiful, you are intelligent, you are kind, and loving.." and
then came "I should have treated you better." Someone was
acknowledging my "good" qualities. I fell for it, and there was a
kiss, yes, while our relationship was still existing. I did not
initiate the kiss, however, it felt good to feel wanted for a
moment. And for you, that kiss justified everything you had done
to harm me prior to.
I grew up learning
romance is violence.
So when people ask “How do you love?”
I say,
Love
is a door banged shut in anger,
vocal chords rubbing together in fright,
raised voices echoing in the middle of the night
dancing from my room to yours.
Love
is red skin pinched from the thighs,
is clenched fists smacked on a table,
is furniture piled to block the way in,
is an object slammed on purpose so you know I’ll know I’m
wrong
wrong
wrong,
Love
is shrugging your hand from my shoulders,
is not texting back,
is throwing your phone against the wall,
is kicking you in your sleep,
is claw marks and bruised knuckles,
is bleeding lips and bitten tongues,
is shoving and pulling,
is a knife unsliced,
is 50 apologies not taken, 50 insults not taken back,
is f.uck yous,
is eye-daggers,
is silence,
is making them cry until they realize they are
wrong
wrong
wrong.
—Sade Andria Zabala, Romance Is Violent
romance is violence.
So when people ask “How do you love?”
I say,
Love
is a door banged shut in anger,
vocal chords rubbing together in fright,
raised voices echoing in the middle of the night
dancing from my room to yours.
Love
is red skin pinched from the thighs,
is clenched fists smacked on a table,
is furniture piled to block the way in,
is an object slammed on purpose so you know I’ll know I’m
wrong
wrong
wrong,
Love
is shrugging your hand from my shoulders,
is not texting back,
is throwing your phone against the wall,
is kicking you in your sleep,
is claw marks and bruised knuckles,
is bleeding lips and bitten tongues,
is shoving and pulling,
is a knife unsliced,
is 50 apologies not taken, 50 insults not taken back,
is f.uck yous,
is eye-daggers,
is silence,
is making them cry until they realize they are
wrong
wrong
wrong.
—Sade Andria Zabala, Romance Is Violent
The man I posted about loving for years, the man who was
so sweet, the man who I hadn't yet met but was so immensely in
love with, well, we met. I travelled to the other side of the
country to be with him in 2012. It was the most irresponsible,
stupid thing I have ever done... and at 15 years
young.
