M Digital Diary Logs

Masahir N'air

Ibn ḏahabiyy őams
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Entry One;
4:21am Thursday

How should I even begin to put my thoughts down? Everything feels confusing and painful all the time, my thoughts always twisting on themselves like bundles of roiling snakes. I don't know, it just hasn't felt the same since everything happened. I haven't been able to sleep at night. I feel terrified being alone at night, an icy fear sinking into my body as the memories play on loop, repeating the incident over and over again. I can still feel his weight crushing me, I can feel those desperate hands. It feels like those shadows on the wall weren't real, none of it feels real in my mind but the pain keeps reminding me. It's like I can never escape it. Will I always feel this way? Will I always be marked and scarred? I just... I don't know.

~~~ πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉ ~~~

Entry Two;
7:53pm Saturday

The temptation is still there, no matter how hard I try to fight it. The idea of fresh red lines, the sharply sweet sting of pain peeks it's head into my thoughts and beckons. I could do it right now, I know how, so why not? Why not grab that razor and slice the internal emotional turmoil away? Why not set my mind to the cathartic steady rhythm of release? It'll be a treat, it'll feel so good, soooo so good to just do it one more time, right? I'll be able to bring the intangible to life, to make it feel, a physical, palpable expression where I can finally point and say 'There, there is my pain, here is where it lies.' My mind wanders, seeking relief from this endless cycle of burden and weight- I just want to taste it one more time, god, just one more time and I'll tell myself never again. No one will know, I'll hide it. I'll avoid sleeping nude until the itchy scabs peel away and when mi mama asks where I got new scars I'll say don't worry, didn't you notice those before? I've had them for years, you probably just never really paid attention, or maybe the lighting is different. No no no, you know I wouldn't do that, I know how much you hate it, I know it upsets you. I would never hurt you like that.

I feel stuck and trapped, unable to breathe, maybe if I just cut a hole I'll be able to breathe. How long have I been trapped, confined and twisted up in this uncomfortable shape? Will I have to tear myself out, inch by inch, line by line and day by day? How much longer should I wait? God, I hate myself for thinking, feeling these sorts of things. I feel like a grotesque monster, unlovable- totally unworthy of the love I receive. I am fractured into a million pieces, brittle and broken right down through my bones. Every instance of every second feels like I could scream until my throat was raw and still need to scream. To scream out the pain, the angry, the feeling. To scream until it all crawled out, until either the pain crawled out or I could slither out of my skin, tender and naked, vulnerable. Every inch of my exposed tissue would weep and gnash and cry in pain, bare nerve endings rubbed sensitive against the carpet and blankets. The pain would be exquisitely delightful, absolute relief in that moment of sheer blinding pain. Certainly everything after that would feel infinitely better by comparison, right?

~~~ πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉ~~~

Entry Three;
3:46am Tuesday

God, what is wrong with me??? Is it wrong that I miss him still? That I miss the person he used to be, what we used to have? What changed? What changed him so much?? I don't understand why... I wish I could understand. God I was, we were going to get married. I loved him. I loved him, but I couldn't do anything, I couldn't do anything at all to stop the slow stumbling descent into the darkness, he slipped through my fingers like wind and sand. I thought I could help him, I thought I could save him. Nothing I said worked, why didn't it work? Why was he just so stupid, why didn't he listen to me? Why didn't he care, why couldn't he have cared? He leaked those pictures online and then acted offended, as if he was justified. Why, why? UGHHHH.

~~~ πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉ ~~~

Entry Four;
11:01am Friday

I wish I could talk to you one last time, you know? I wish I could tell you how much you've hurt me. You know, there was a time once, where we could talk to each other, where we trusted each other without fear or doubt. It was never enough, nothing was ever enough for you, you needed it all. Every second of every day, every ounce of my attention, every breath from my lips needed to be for you, right. I'd come home and you'd be knocking on the door just moments afterwards, demanding to know where I went and with who, because you didn't trust me, it wasn't enough. I couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't take it!

So I broke up with you. I told you to move on, to find someone else, that I needed a break from being around you, that I was done with the screaming and yelling and demanding. I told you to leave.

So you leaked my pictures online, you leaked our intimate messages, conversations, you told the whole world my inner thoughts and desires, you told them all so you could punish me. But it wasn't enough. You forced your way onto my porch, throwing rocks at my window for my attention. You asked to get back together, I said no, you begged, I refused. I can't even begin to understand the audacity you had to possess to dare ask me that. How dare you, how dare you, you sick twisted little monster.

That night when you pushed me down you blamed me for it. You cried and said I didn't know what it was like to be hurt and denied, that I couldn't fathom it. Can you even begin to imagine what it's like? To be betrayed by someone you love, to watch them slip away and stumble into darkness with no regard for the lives of others they destroy in the process? Do you have any clue, in that inflated, entitle head of yours that you hurt me as well? That all the screaming and yelling and pleading and fighting, all the times you hit me and slammed me into the wall, all the times I lied to Foley that nothing was wrong, all those times I lied to Angie as she put my makeup on for the day, all those times I begged and cried for her not to tell anyone because I was scared of what might happen to you.

I sit awake at night, unable to bear the idea of sleeping without the lights on, unable to stomach being alone with the doors closed. I'm terrified that you'll be there, hiding in the shadows waiting for your chance to lunge at me again, to sink your inky claws into my soul and string me out, to rip me to pieces for your own amusement.

~~~ πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉ~~~

Entry Five;
1:32am Wednesday

I try to be as friendly and nice as possible, as optimistic and positive as I can, I want to help everyone that I see is down. I want to help because I have so much love inside of me, but some days it's hard. It's hard to get up and it's hard to do anything and breathing feels like the weight of the world. I have horrible nightmares of the abuse I've gone through and my fears plague every corner of my mind, reaching their deathly claws into my psyche and strangling me. My body hurts, my soul aches, my mind is numb with fog and my mouth is dry and gritty. It's a huge challenge for me to separate myself from the mantra that existence is pain, that to be alive is to experience suffering. Sometimes it feels like the only thing grounding me to this reality is pain or anxiety, and then to escape it all I turn everything grey and dilute. I wish I could take away all the bad in the world and just make it all right. I wish I could fix everything and help everyone, I want to, so badly.

~~~ πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉ~~~

Entry Six;
7:41am Friday

Is it worse to have a friend commit suicide, or to watch a friend grow old and die without dreams and accomplishments?

~~~ πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉ ~~~

Entry Seven;
2:58pm Sunday

She disappeared long before she died.

~~~ πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉπŸ’–πŸŒΉ ~~~

Entry Eight;
10:03pm Tuesday

You look up at the stars, and you don't know which ones are dead - their light just hasn't faded yet. People are like that, too. You don't know which ones are already dead inside. When someone leaves your life, those exits are not made equal. Some are beautiful and poetic and satisfying. Others are abrupt and unfair.
 
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