Love, Honey

#6 *SS - Words

She has to go, she needs time for herself. Never had she dreamt about this happening. They found her book she keeps her most intimate thoughts in. The book she uses to keep herself sane. They have read it, read her fears, her deepest wishes, her experiences of highs and lows. They read everything.

She wants to write more, but she knows they will just find her thoughts again, she fears their reaction. If they read more she will break, but she needs the relief of letting it all go. She needs the alternative to hurting herself. Her words give her that relief, but not the spoken ones. She needs time to find the right words to express herself, she rarely has that time in conversations. That is the reason she doesn't do well in confrontations, she can't think about what she should say and how she should say it. She can't sort her words before speaking, talking gibberish only. Others judge her for that, make her insecure, make her think less, make her stupid. She hates how others influence her and those who claim they want to help are no better than those who don't. Those reading and listening to her thoughts are way worse than those who just laugh, judge and influence. They just don't want to admit it.

She is hurting whenever they tell her to stop writing down her thoughts. She is hurting when they tell her they have read what she had written. She is hurting when they don't understand that she needs this. She is hurting.

Words have always been her safe haven, the place she was untouchable at, but she understood that she can't stay there for long. No matter what alternate reality she creates, she can't run from the actual reality she lives in. She can't escape. She never could. They have her in their claws, tugging, scratching, hurting her. Yet they don't realize it. They just keep going, not actually trying to make her feel better, just trying to keep her at reach, at bay, where they are able to watch over her and control her in some sick way. She tried pushing them away, but words were luring them back in. Even when she thought they were finally gone they were still there, waiting in the dark for the perfect moment to move back into her life. She stopped letting them know after they never listened. She now just does the same: She never listens. They talk to her, but it only grazes her conscious very slightly. She beats herself up after every conversation she has with one of them, if you can even call it a conversation. She only nods, hums, praying for them to go away. Unconsciously she remembers every word they tell her, every word that is used to destroy her. She wished they'd just stop. She wished they'd move on, just like she had. But somehow, they won't and she can't understand. They helped make her the way she is right now. Their words were part of the reason she became like this. If they truly were the way she wished they were, she'd have kept them around, close to her, but they are not around her. Not anymore. Not even a single one of them, not any of them. She had given her everything to them, they treated her like she meant nothing. They took her for granted. They let her know that by using certain body language, not daring to use their words. She never took them for granted, she felt the need to do things she normally wouldn't have done, used alcohol and blades to drown her sorrow. They thought she was like them, but most of her works show different. She hates the taste of alcohol, she hates lying, yet she did both to keep them entertained, to keep them interested in her.

Slowly but surely, she realizes her mistakes, one by one, but her writing down her thoughts was never one. Every single one of those people was, but her words never were a problem or a mistake. She let them control her, but now she uses her writing to fight, rebel against them. Never has she imagined that they'd turn the most important thing against her. Never in a million years has she considered them reading her works as a possibility. Never. Still, she continues using her words to set herself free. To relieve herself. To release what she used to when she used blades, teeth, shards, walls before: Her built up feelings, good and bad. She finally uses her words in the right way.