Written in Ink
Written in Ink
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A life story.

I wrote this when I was 18, exactly to the year when I survived cancer the first time. Since this is still just a few of us, I would like to share this temporarily. It has only been seen by one other person. I may keep it after crosstalk is published. I just want to see something, by posting it publicly for the first time.

Everyday, I wake up. I see the scars on my body and appreciate them a little more, for what they represent. Then I am also repulsed by them a little more for what they also stole. Time doesn't heal all wounds, the anger I always will bear grows more as time passes. It doesn't subside...like a never ending flame. I can't hide these scars, I can't change the fact I have them.
You can blame me of being vain, for I am horribly vain.

These scars I have saved my life, and they also stole parts of my life I can never gain back.
I can never admit to things that I did that could have stopped them... I could have stopped all of this from ever happening to me. I didn't listen, I ignored it. Didn't want to burden anyone.

But now, a few years later. Here I am bitching about something that was in my grasp to stop.... and maybe I would have some sort of future that didn't have to be altered.

I see people who survived, and I find them to be so beautiful. The people who understand my insanity, and what keeps me up at night. Nothing like a bad dream to keep you from achieving sleep.

But this bad dream, I live in it's reality. It never ends, I can never escape it. I re-live it in my head, and I'm beginning to think I am insane.

I try to pull myself out of this nightmare, and I can't. For I cannot accept I'm not normal. I never was, I was born with something that has the ability to make my body betray me. I know I'm a bad person, I know. I do horrible things to people. I'm trying to change, I have someone that I want to keep happy. Even if I can't guarantee to that person I'll be around.
No one knows the statistics! No one can tell me my chances. I don't fit in the normal category.

No one understands this part of my insanity. I can talk to people, they can say how sorry they are... but it's not enough. I need to find someone who understands everything.

You know how ridiculous it is to still have a heightened sense of smell? When you can smell things "normal" people cannot? It makes you look so weird to them. Of course, they'll be polite about it and not tell you. You're crazy, but you know in truth that you are.

I remember the looks and talks behind my back. The pity that you people held for me. I hate it, I can't have a moment of weakness. There is no time for weakness ever.

I feel guilty for this, the time I had to take from doing other things to fix myself. Yet, I'm not fixed. The bandage is just holding on.

It's horrible how pessimistic I am. Things are going in my favor for once! If its God's way of trying to make up for my stolen future then hopefully...it'll keep going in my favor. I need something to change. I can't take care of everybody anymore, it's sucking me dry. I'm supposed to be taking care of myself, and I am not because I'm taking care of everyone else.

People tell me I'm a good person, no. I am not. I take care of these people for selfish beliefs, and my own personal sanity. I can't deal with people and their consistent nagging. If I take care of them, there is no nagging. There is no guilt, there is just numbness.
I can't go off on my own, I have to make sure everyone's okay. The guilt, the selfish guilt I feel because I can't stand taking care of them anymore.

I just want everything that spins in my head to stop.

I don't know what else I can do to stop feeling like this.


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