fuck you for fucking me

My logic wants to tell me that you don't exist, and that you never have. I wish that I could believe that this is true, but my heart tells me that there must be a rhyme or reason for things that happen. That I have purpose, and that my life isn't just a waste. And if that's true, I'm mad at you. I'm mad at your for being so mean. I'm mad at you for making me this way. I'm mad at you for letting me be put in those situations. I'm mad at you for taking advantage of my vulnerability. For abandoning "your child". For watching these things happen. My daddy would never do that. Someone who loves me, would never do that. Yes God, right now I see you as the rapist. I see you as the child molester. I see you as the asshole that blinded my eyes, while you took stabs at me. You covered my memory, you dumbed my brain. You let me become this way, afraid. And you don't want me to know what happened, you don't want me to remember, or to be able to get over it. You want me to sit in this dark abyss and be scared.

I'm afraid of men; I never want one to take anything from me again. They've already stolen so much. You've used me as your puppet, as your experiment. "Let this shit happen to her, because she can handle it." I don't want to handle it anymore. I don't know if you exist God, and I don't know that you're good. I want to take my life, and be happy. I want to break free of these strings that you've attached to my arms and legs. I don't want to be your prisoner anymore.

12/07/08