MericCotton

I look up ... I look down all I see is the shroud of liquid night impenetrable suffocating the pills don’t help anymore the talks don’t help anymore I have to move get away from this spot this place of torment and shadow I hear the laughter of life just beyond my reach and my tears hit the floor without sound

thank you

it is impossible to fathom beyond comprehension to be ignored dropped ridiculed by those who are supposed to be guardians administrators moderators of all places this was the last one i ever expected the knife so firmly placed between my shoulder blades do not ask why i weep for there are no more tears with the ultimate betrayal comes the ultimate truth life will never be worth living if you still believe in friends or others who "care" to survive you must first r

I'm glad you enjoyed (?) it. Thanks for writing.

and there is the scary part.

It is a "personal experience" story - but only the first part - the "adult moment" is mental only - one I hate to say I've thought about a time or three... Thank you for reading!

Yeah... Thanks for reading.

That would be nice, if it were the case.

A friend in truth.

"too accustomed to being ok ... but practically non-functional" yeah - I know that place. You've described it well. It connects. Very nicely done..

It wasn’t intended. Well, maybe it was. And maybe it was more gruesome than it needed to be … but I snapped. I still don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I think I can cover the why … I was nine. I remember that part well. Just after Christmas – my older brother and his friends were messing around with his new drum set. I came down stairs and said something like “you jerks sure make a lot of noise” … they charged. Next thing I knew I was flat on my back, brother sitting over my st

short story - what would you do? Trigger warning - deals with results of sexual childhood abuse.

Thanks! It's good to be back, even if I'm not writing "full" chapters yet.

“Boss, if you don’t sit still, I can’t get you ready.” Nelson struck at Enderson’s hand as the older man tried to mess with the tie in Nelson’s hands. “Then Let.Me.Have it,” Enderson replied, finally wresting the fabric from the driver. “I was tying these things before you were a spark in your father’s eyes.” He fought with the tie a few moments before his hands flew up in frustration. “These things must have been invented by women as torture for their men.” He looked up at his driver and bo

It was only my third year when she first fondled me Now in therapy we're finding pieces of three Two more years she would have me don't know how I survived Now I'm starting to discover pieces of five We then moved to a new city a new home - a new state And for three years my brother gave me pieces of eight For two more years torture from him and his friends But she left and got married at least one part did end ... somewhere deep in my mind there hide pieces of ten