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About AllyHatter

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  • Birthday 06/18/1997

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  1. He knows. I told him. He was very accepting. He just wants to protect me
  2. AllyHatter


    Hey...I know we haven't talked in a while but I wondered how you'd been...The fact you went through this and I wasn't there for you really bothers me. Reach out if you ever need to talk. You know my number.
  3. To whom it may concern, Weird that some happy news might be on my blog haha. But I am getting married. To a man I barely know I know it seems crazy but he is the person who will never hurt me. I don't know why I feel this way. I can't understand it but when he looks at me....I don't wanna look away. When he smiles at me....I'm not scared of what he might think if he ever found out what happened to me. When he touches me....I don't wanna pull away. He loves me and I feel it. Like I really feel it. The only fear I have is....am I gonna fuck this up? I fear that he might see my flaws. I fear that one day he will wake up...and he won't want me the way I want him I know he says he will always love me and I want to believe that. I want to believe that this is it. I want to believe that he is gonna be the man I am with for as long as the stars light up the night sky...but I have never felt real love...and so I'm scared that if I really accept it...if I hold on to it and care for it....he might rip it away from me someday. No one has made me feel worth it. I woke up today and I felt like out of place in my own body. Since I've met him, every day I wake up, I have made an effort to believe in him and to believe in us. I usually succeed. This morning I was looking at apartments for us and talking to him about different things and I started asking strange questions like "Oh you really want me that close? You know you'll have to see me everyday." I started second guessing everything I was searching and everything I was planning with him. I almost felt like I had forgotten who I was and what my life was. It was both terrifying and somehow relieving... Because for a second...even though I had forgotten the amazing love I was shown by my amazing future husband....I had forgotten....the pain that I had felt....every day since that terrible day. Then I realized I would rather feel that pain every day for the rest of my life then forget the love I have been shown in such a short period of time by such a wonderful man. I am finally feeling....peaceful....cared for.....loved. Sincerely yours, Alice.
  4. AllyHatter

    Bad day?

    Thank you Mai. It truly is appreciated
  5. AllyHatter

    Bad day?

    To whom it may concern, Today, I feel...weird. I don't really feel like its been a bad day. Somehow, I just went through the motions without really realizing what I was doing today. I just kinda snapped into it a few moments ago when I started writing. Seems like I may have been having a few of these days lately but I haven't really realized it 'till now. I know I went to work. I know I smiled and made jokes like I always do. I know I went for a smoke at lunch but I feel like these are someone else's memories. Like I wasn't the one who did those things. I kinda feel like someone else has been controlling my body today. I don't know how I feel. I guess I'm a little empty right now. I don't know if I had a good day or a bad day. I know that hearing from Connor today made me smile. I know that getting a promotion at work made me smile. I know that I felt okay all day yet right now I don't feel like I did any of those things... Anyone else have this feeling? I don't know if I'm grateful I didn't have to deal with today or if I'm scared that I've completely disassociated with reality. I wanna be in my little dream world but then coming back and realizing I could have lived a good day kinda scares me. What if reality isn't so bad and now that things are finally looking up, I'm not there to live it. I guess it really is all or nothing eh? Either you disassociate and miss out on the bad...and the good or you live through the bad but get to experience the beautiful wonders of this world. I guess I don't really know how to live in this world anymore. But I will do better. I will start taking the bad with the good. I will not dissapear and let someone else live my life for me. Today's the day I take control again. I have to....or I'll just wither away and I might miss out on the smiles I get to experience with Connor...my sister...my friends...my family...what if I miss out on a life with them? I don't wanna lose the chance to experience my little sister's graduation from medical school or my nephew's first day of school or my first date with Connor. I want to live this life....whether it has some sad parts in it or not...at the end of the day...it's my life and I have to accept that and live it. Sincerely yours, Alice.
  6. To whom it may concern, It's mother's day and my mom has been an issue I have stayed away from for quite a while but I think I'm ready to talk about it. I wish it wasn't a issue but sadly it is so here goes. I have a mother. She is not exactly a mom. I wish she could be but she isn't exactly what you would call motherly. I was never able to tell her about my rape. I still couldn't tell her. A few stories for context. My earliest memory about feeling insecure was when I was about 10. My mother got me into acting very early in my life. Put all the money into a college fund for me. Very nice but anyways! We were about to leave for an audition. She used to take pictures of me before every audition. Before taking the picture she said "Suck in your stomach! Remember, you always need to hold in your stomach. You always want to look your best. You don't want them thinking you're fat do you?" I was 10. I had no idea what body image even meant and yet here was my mother telling me that to be accepted in this world I had to hold it in. From then on my memories of her are usually involving some kind of quip about me gaining weight or withholding food from me or implying something rude about me. When I was about 15, I got boobs and thicker thighs and really grew into my body. I got stretch marks. At first, I saw this as normal. I was proud! I mean these marks that my mother had, my idols had, and all of my friends had were finally on me too. It meant I was finally becoming a woman. My mother bought me this oil to make them go away. When I asked her why she told me I had stretch marks because I was getting fat. I needed to hide them. I needed to eat less. I needed to be beautiful. I still don't wear shorts or take off my bra in front of guys because those words are so ingrained in my memory. Around the same time, I was being bullied at school. Called a w**re, a sl*t, because my...assets....had grown exponentially over the summer. I went from no boobs to DD's in a few months and my clothes didn't exactly fit right and at the same time I had a lot of friends who were male. They were friends I had known my whole life and the only people I felt safe around. I called my older brother one night crying, I needed to tell an adult but I wasn't going to tell my mother...I thought he would understand. He went through certain tribulations with my mother as well but he was trying to be a responsible adult (he's quite a bit older then me) and he called her...told her about the situation. My mother stopped me one day, decided to ask me about it...me being naive and wanting to finally open up to the woman who was raising me, I was excited! I thought, FINALLY! I have a mom! I can open up to her, tell her the truth! Maybe she will help me... Her advice to me...after my hour long explanation and crying...was that I should stop wearing short shorts and maybe stop sleeping around and then maybe people wouldn't say those things. Before I could even respond, she said rumors don't start without validity. I should remember to be more conservative and maybe people will like me. The older I got the more I hated myself. She brushed off my outbursts of anger towards her as being immature and undeserving. She hadn't done anything wrong! She was just giving me advice. She never explicitly called me fat...or a w**re...or a piece of trash...but her words implied it and that hurts just as bad. I remember I had gained a bit of weight throughout the years. I was about 17. I had a great day at work and had even been hit on! Twice! I didn't plan on doing anything about it but I still felt a little better about myself! I got home and my mother told me I should stop wearing my overall shorts because they made me look fatter then I was...I decided to retort and maybe shut her up by saying that maybe guys liked bigger girls cause I had been hit on twice that day by two different guys. She got me though by reminding me that they didn't really think I was pretty...they just knew bigger girls are easier. She always blamed me. She still does. She reminds me every day that she had my baby sister when I was 3 because she knew early on I wasn't going to be good enough. I may not look like her, I may not act like her, I may not have the same interests or opinions as her but believe me...I am good enough. Maybe you guys can understand why I wouldn't wanna divulge my rape to her and if not here's one last good story for all those victims who have ever felt low and had someone push them down lower. I was watching Law and order: Special victims unit. I like that show...I like seeing those who hurt others get the justice they deserve...I like hearing the kind words of Olivia Benson telling those victims that it will be okay and there is more in life... My mother was sitting watching as well. In the courthouse on the show, the defense attorney asked the victim what she was wearing, how drunk she was and I was mad. I let out a comment about not blaming the victim. That it didn't matter what she wore or what she drank, that he had stolen something from her that no one could ever replace and that no one ever deserves that regardless of their attire. She said "It does matter. She should have been smarter. She was asking for it. If you put on clothes like that and you drink like that then you are asking for someone to take you home and whether you say yes or no doesn't matter in that situation. The detective said it herself! She was too drunk to consent. Meaning she was also too drunk to refuse. So he did nothing wrong." I couldn't believe the words coming from my mother. The woman I once revered. I felt like she was talking about me...about how it was my fault I had been raped. Whether she knew I was raped or not didn't matter. She had said those words and she meant it. She had judged me for what clothes I wore, for my weight, for the lack of makeup I put on my face, for the people I spoke to and for the things people said about me but nothing hurt more then hearing those words. The day after I turned 18, I left home. Without a goodbye. Without an I love you. I don't regret it. I still speak to my parents. I still speak to my siblings. I go and visit my 2 brothers, my little sister and my father regularly...but I can't stay in a room with my mother for more then an hour because she is a scornful and hurtful woman. I try. I do. I love her. I still take her opinion of me to heart but it's not healthy for me to stand there and take that kind of abuse from the people I love. It's affected relationships! I've brought one guy over once. He stood up and left. He couldn't sit there quiet while my mother and the rest of my family sat there and told me how I was worthless. I was no good. I was damaged. They don't even know who I really am. They don't know I'm bi. They are unaware of my rape. They don't meet the people I date. And yet, they still judge me for things that I have no control over! The smallest things. It hurts me. My mom is the worst. She is the influence that creates these comments from my sister and my youngest brother (still older then me). My father may have his own opinions that I don't agree with but he doesn't direct those opinions at me. My mother judges me in ways that I could never explain fully. It kills me inside. So happy mother's day to every woman who loves their child. To every mom who would hurt anyone who ever made their kid cry. To every mom who would defend their child even if they had done something regrettable. You are the woman I wish I had growing up...maybe I would have been able to become strong with you instead of in spite of her. I love my mother. I always will. But I never had a mom. She gave birth to me. She pushed me but she never helped me. She never inspired me. She never believed in me. She pushed me down, she demeaned me, she made me feel like...if my mother doesn't want me...who ever will. Sincerely yours, Alice.
  7. To whom it may concern, I'm not sure what I want to write today... I just know that writing somehow gives me a sense of peace. I like to just write random words at time. No sense to them. Sometimes it's just a jumble of words on a piece of paper, no real place, no real meaning. I used to draw a lot to calm myself. I stopped. I realized as I got older that I was no longer drawing things to calm me...I was angry. I would start drawing a flower and then all my pain and anger would come out and the drawing would just become a giant black void. I didn't like the way it made me feel anymore. Writing makes me feel like my words are safe. My thoughts are safe. But that's changed recently as well. I lived in a house with a terrible roommate. He was a misogynistic, womanizing prick. At first things were fine...then he just showed his true colors. I write letters to myself. I've done it since I was a little kid....so around 12 years old. I write a letter about my days and my feelings, my relationships and my fears, my hopes and dreams. I seal them in an envelope and I put them away in a box. Well...it's become a few boxes seeing as there's over 300 letters. I wanted to be able to write to someone who I knew would understand exactly what I went through and how I felt. I wanted to reassure my future self as well...so that if my dreams had not come true...they still could someday because they would never be forgotten as long as they were written in these letters. One of those letters obviously held a detailed description of my rape...every feeling...every pain...every moment I could possibly remember...and all the aftermath. The kind of stuff I would never ever ever ever tell anyone about. It was hard enough simply writing it to a future version of myself. I know you probably see where this is going...I left them out one day...21 letters. He tore open and read 21 letters. 21 letters about my depression, my ups and downs, my personal thoughts and feelings. I'm not gonna lie to you....I felt worse then when I was raped. When I was raped, he took my body. I convinced myself that he wouldn't take my soul, my thoughts, my dignity. Those were mine and no one could ever take them away from me...I sealed all of my thoughts into stupid little envelopes...easily ripped...easily read...it was so dumb of me...and when I came home and saw my letters...opened, torn open like they were nothing but a good laugh...I snapped. I was angry...sure...but I snapped...in a different way. I felt like someone had reached into my chest and had ripped out my lungs. I felt like I was gonna die. 21. That is not a small number. That means he opened one, read through all the horrible, agonizing, painful, dreadful things I was feeling....had a laugh....and opened another one...and another on and another one and another one and another one. TWENTY ONE FUCKING LETTERS... And if you were wondering...yes he did open the one with a detailed account of my rape. HE READ THAT! Even as I'm writing this, I am so broken inside. I no longer feel numb, I feel violated in a way that even my rapist couldn't accomplish...and the best part out of all of this is he stole 3 of them. 3 letters were missing and when my other roommate (really good person) found out, he tried to kinda see if the guy still had them...he did. In fact, when my other roommate asked him about my letters, he laughed, grabbed the letters he had, ripped em up into a plate and set fire to them. I haven't wrote myself a letter since. I think today I might. I've never actually wrote about this safe haven. I'd like to remind my future self that there was a place I could be a little more open with my thoughts...and no one was there to tear them up and set fire to them... Sincerely yours, Alice.
  8. To whom it may concern, I don't get it. I mean I really don't get it. I'm a very quiet person. I don't stand out unless I feel comfortable. I do not wear provocative clothing cause I don't like eyes on me. I wear my glasses and hide behind my hair and yet still, it never stops. Why do certain people feel the need to make me feel so small and uncomfortable. I am working at a factory. I love this job. I actually kinda feel comfortable there and have a few friends who make me laugh. We were full coverage uniforms so you couldn't see anything interesting even if you tried your best to picture me naked. Point is, somehow, I've managed to attract the attention of a man who is in no way a good match so to speak. He's like 10 years older then me, he's so unsettling when he stands right behind me. He tries to make conversation and I'm always happy to but just certain things he says...and my friend is trying to help me avoid him seeing as there have been many a sexual harassment claim against him. I just wanna feel safe and I can't even feel safe at work. More so there's now a lady in HR who is harassing me. Not sexually but kinda...I don't know how to explain this. Point is, she has called me over 4 times now. My uniform used to be a medium and that's super duper except I have....large...breasts. Point is, the top button of my shirt was undone. Not suppose to be. The first time she stops me I say "Oh I'm so sorry I will do it up." the second time she stops me...it's not even undone but she claims it had been...so I say "Oh I'm sorry I'll wear a shirt underneath just in case" I start wearing t-shirts under my uniform and get a large uniform shirt. The third time, I was annoyed. I was late for work, my supervisor was about to start morning meeting and I had to get going to I look at my button say "It's buttoned and if it's not then sorry. Big boobs." Now in hindsight, I probably shouldn't of said that. It was a little passive-aggressive. But when my employer calls me at lunch break and asks me to meet them in their office, I thought nothing of it. Conversation went a little something like this... Me: "Hey there employer (not gonna use names so EM is the go to) How are you? EM: "Hey Alice, so bit*h called us again complaining about your button at morning meeting. The thing is we know your button was done up cause we were at morning meeting so bit*h has nothing to complain about." Me: "I don't know how to please her but I'm really starting to get annoyed. This is ridiculous. I see hundred of people with their button undone. Why is bit*h picking on me?" EM: "Probably cause she's jealous of your boobs" Me: " *HISTERICAL LAUGHTER* " EM: "I'll have a talk with her just...I don't know...wear a safety pin and like make it super obvious so she knows how fucking ridiculous she's being." I mean seriously? A safety pin? For what! Even if I pushed up my tits, took that one button off and bent over, you still couldn't see my boobs. So why am I being singled out like this. Of all things, I mean I always thought HR would be there to protect me not shame me. It's really embarrassing when I get pulled aside going in to work by HR, in front of ALL of my coworkers and get a nice little speech about putting my button back on. It's gotten so ridiculous, it's now become an ongoing joke. People will walk by me and take the one button off and laugh! I just wanna go to work, have an ok day and then go home. That's it... Sincerely yours, Alice.
  9. Hi, I know it's hard. I know some days getting out of bed is the battle you face and it takes everything you have...yet no one realizes the struggle you have inside. No one appreciates the small victories you have every day. I'm not saying I have anything good to tell you or any advice...I go through similar things. every day. But, if you ever wanna chat, vent, appreciate the small victories...Message me. Alice.
  10. To whom it may concern, It sure has been a while since I've been on here... I stopped coming to the site because I honestly felt worse somehow. I mean in the real world I have my smile to protect me, I have my secrets. I am safe. On here...you all know. You've all been through something similar and I think the knowledge that carrying this pain doesn't make a difference really scares me. That boyfriend and I broke up. Mutual. I wanted more, he wanted less and we decided it was for the best. I'm single right now. Though I wish I wasn't. Usually that sentence would go along the lines of "I'm single right now. I like being alone" but when it comes to this guy...it seems I always fall back on a relationship I've cooked up in my head. A relationship neither of us wants...yet is always in our minds. I'm gonna call this guy....RS. I've know RS since I was about 14, my wounds were still fresh. I had had a boyfriend (8th grade puppy love) before and was just trying to be a normal teenage girl. I started working at a little flea market with my father on weekends and that's where I met this 6'4", intimidating, gorgeous, ridiculous, giant teddy bear. At first I acted with him, the same way I had acted infront of everyone. Overly happy and super strange and tough. Cause I always need to show I'm tough. I would hide behind him when it got cold, he would give me his sweaters, his smile and laugh could make anyone smile and laugh, and those eyes! Good lord those eyes are beautiful. Point being, he's amazing. We became friends. I tried being more when I was about 15...I screwed it up. We still remained close friends. So close infact that when I was about 17...I decided I wanted to experience sex....real sex. Not the painful, scar you for life kind. The real kind. SO! I made sexual advances. RS accepted this ( a little bit of a man w**re back then ) He was the only person I was ever comfortable with. Still am. Now flash forward in time, we are still best friends and sometimes we will get together for a little "booty call". I mean I'm not exactly comfortable with anyone else...with him I can be myself and I don't have to be afraid. He knows everything. There's a few times in the past years, we get together, screw a lot talk a lot, actually consider being together...then we will lose touch. My fault or his, it always changes. We are talking again. He always makes me feels like I can do anything, and apparently I do the same for him. He's doing well in life, I'm getting there too and I wonder...is there ever going to be a chance I could end up with him? He's one person I can lie next to all night and not have nightmares. The one person who makes me smile even when he's not there! I mean just thinking about his goofy laugh and big ol' smile makes me happy. I am at peace when we hang out. I don't have many moments where I am actually smiling...no faking...where I can feel safe....where I know that no matter what I say infront off this person, it's ok. They will still be there for me. RS is a good friend. He means a lot to me and I don't know what I'd do without him popping into my life every so often. I love the gap between his teeth, I love the riddles that he speaks and any snide remark from my father about his tattoo's will be ignored cause he's the best part of my day. But then again...maybe I'm not meant to be happy and these feelings are nothing more then a cruel joke. I hope we will always be friends. I know sometimes I imagine what it would be like to have more with RS but at the end of the day I need him to be there as my friend. He's my anchor. Not my lover. He's the person who would shoved fries up his nose just to make me laugh, not the man I will marry. And I'm okay with that. More so, I'm happy he will be the person to walk me down the isle. I am happy he will be the one to beat up any guy who makes me cry. I am happy to call him family. Even though he has been a sexual comfort when I couldn't be with anyone else...I still consider him to be family. He means the world to me. I couldn't imagine a life where he wasn't my big ol' teddy bear. Sincerely yours, Alice.
  11. To whom it may concern, I sort of have this secret that no one knows about me but it's something that really bothers me and that is honestly a huge part of my depression. Seven years ago, when I was raped, I got pregnant. I was a 13 year old who was pregnant. Here's the kicker. I didn't know I was pregnant until a week later when I got really bad pain in my stomach and went to the bathroom and found blood and stuff. It scared me but I was smart enough to know not to go to my parents. They are very religious and would have disowned me... So instead I told my mom I felt weird, I was throwing up and wanted to go to the hospital cause it was night time and all the clinics were closed and I just needed the pain to go away right now. She dropped me at the door and told me to call her when I was done. I knew she wouldn't come with me. I went to the nurse, who I knew because I was in the hospital quite a lot (heart problems) and told her I needed her help as soon as possible. It was an emergency and I couldn't tell my parents. She was a friend and promised she wouldn't say anything. I may have lied to her about how I got pregnant but the point is she knew what my parents would do if they found out. She thought it was strange a relatively healthy young girl would have a miscarriage so she ordered a full pelvic exam, which I hated of course, blood work, the works. I was told a few days later that I not only had a low egg count...which made it next to impossible to get pregnant in the first place, but my uterus was malformed. It would never form. It's this weird defect. In a span of a few weeks, I was raped, I lost my first child, and I was told I could never be a mother. To this day it makes me feel so empty inside. I feel broken. The primal reason for my existence is to pop out babies. It's what women are made for. I can't even do that. To this day, I morn my unborn child. I imagine sometimes it would have been a baby girl. Blond hair, blue eyes, named Alora. I always loved that name. She would have the cutest laugh and a smile that would brighten the whole world. I imagine teaching her piano and painting with her and dancing with her in the middle of Wal-Mart like a crazy person haha. But then I start to imagine how her life really would have been like... Not the fantasy I want but the reality of the world. A disowned 13 year old with no home or money, trying to raise a little baby that depends solely on me. And let's say I did that. I managed to find a job, an apartment, maybe my brother took me in for a few months...what about when she gets older. What happens when she asks me who her father is. What happens if I were to look at her and see him. Dark hair and green eyes and a smirk that sends shivers down my spine....I would love her unconditionally but a small part of me would be scared of who she would become, how she would feel, how she would react if she knew how she came to be my daughter. A part of me is glad that child would never get to live that life. Knowing your father raped your mother and that's why your here. The pain it could have brought her...hurts me even now to think about it. Anyways, there it is folks, my darkest secret. The time I almost had a beautiful baby and instead found out I would never have one. Sincerely yours, Alice.
  12. To whom it may concern, I know it seems impossible, improbable but I must attract horrible experiences. Maybe I did something in a previous life. Maybe I was a murderer. Possibly Jack the Riper. Seems to be fitting punishment if I was. Last night, I had a migraine. Usually, cold air helps so I decided, like an idiot, to go out for a walk around 2 am. Stupid, right? I was just heading back home, another 20 min and I would be in my house, warm and safe but that future was not in the cards for me I suppose. I didn't even hear anyone behind me or anything. I was preoccupied by the throbbing in my head so my breath was sorta knocked out of me when I got pinned against a wall, punched in the stomach. When I managed to yell, he decided he would choke me. Called me a stupid bit*h over and over and over again. I almost blacked out and a part of me thought "If I just fall asleep, it'll be over when I wake up." but another part of me didn't want to know how this ended or why I was pinned or why he was chocking me. I just wanted to get out of there. I mustered up the last bit I had and pretended to reach for his face so he was preoccupied when I kneed him as hard as I could and caught my breath. I kicked him a few more times when he hit the ground and I ran. All the way home. I passed out in bed and woke up in the morning. I have spots all over my face. Internet says it's blood vessels that have popped. Apparently it happens sometimes if you've been choked. I also have bruising on my neck that sorta looks like his hands around my neck and a bruise on my stomach where he punched me. I'd show you the scars but I'd rather stay anonymous. I don't want to go to the police or explain why I was out at 2 am. I don't wanna be pegged as a girl who was asking for it. I don't need that. But because I am afraid he might do it to someone else....I asked around, found out his name, pulled a few strings with some cop friends I have and they will be keeping a close eye on him and making it very well known. Feels like I attract shitty people. I told my boyfriend. He hadn't slept last night so although he's concerned, he's sorta in and out with the whole support thing. I think he doesn't know what to say and I don't blame him. I couldn't ask for more. I wouldn't want to. He's great and just because I was stupid doesn't mean he needs to come to my rescue haha. Anyways, that's all I got for now. Sincerely, Alice.
  13. AllyHatter

    Seven years

    To whom it may concern, I am sure I have mentioned this before but I want to re-examine what's going on and write it all down. Seven years. It has been seven years since it happened. Since he hurt me. It's actually going to be eight years this year. I read a post a few months ago that said; Today in science class, I learned every cell in our entire body is replaced every seven years. How lovely it is to know, one day I will have a body you will never have touched. I found that poetic seeing as my seven year...anniversary of sorts would be coming up quite soon. When it finally had..I thought I would feel relief. I thought I would feel better. I thought my body would have been cleansed in some way. Like he had never done what he did. But that was when I realized, he hadn't just hurt me physically, he had scared me...ruined me...mentally as well. I realized he had a hold on me that no amount of dead cells could change. He had taken away my sense of safety, intimacy, my sense of beauty in the world. He had made me into the pessimistic asshole I am today. Today, no matter how stupid it sounds, I have decided that I won't let him win. I will smile. I will laugh. I will find love. I will have kids. I will have create a life for myself that he will never be able to ruin. He will never ruin me again. Sincerely yours, Alice.
  14. AllyHatter

    The rain.

    To whom it may concern, Have you ever stood outside in the rain, looked up and just felt the rain fall on your face, felt the drops roll down your skin? I'm sure a lot of you have cried, of course everyone has at one point or another, but I mean really cried. The kind of crying where you can feel your entire soul reaching out. The kind of crying where you feel knots in your stomach and a relief when it's over. Like it has given you a chance to start over. Not like it really is a clean slate but more like...those tears have been pilling up for so long and are so happy to be released. I feel that sometimes when I am standing in the rain. A sense of relief. A sense of brief calm. It's raining outside right now. I wanna just stand out there bare and close my eyes with my head up to the sky, taking in every drop that hits my body. I know this all sounds weird but somehow, it makes me feel like I will be okay. Like it's the worlds tears falling on me. Like I am not the only one who needs that kind of release. Do you love the rain? Does it make you hurt? Remind you of something you'd rather forget? I'd like to know what you think of it. How it makes you feel. I really would. Weather you want to comment or pm me...that's up to you. I like having people tell me how they see the world. It intrigues me. I see the world a certain way, a way I struggle to explain to others. So learning more about others helps me explain it. My favorite part of rain is the smell. The smell of rain is so salty and fresh. I know their are so many chemicals and such in the water these days it's not like those rain drops truly are purity but somehow it smells that way. It feels that way. It looks that way. I feel like a cloud in a sense. I collect emotion and anger and sadness over the course of days, sometimes months, sometimes years but there comes a day where I need to release all of those feelings and they come out as water from my eyes. Sometimes it's just a light drizzle. A little water for the flowers. Something everyone needs. The other times it goes on for days. Like I haven't let go in so long and it just won't stop and suddenly....I've flooded the world with too much of a good thing. Sometimes it's a storm. A furious storm that doesn't just rain...it destroys everything in it's path with no regard for others. Depends on how long I've been holding it in for. Sincerely yours, Alice.
  15. AllyHatter

    My Depression

    To whom it may concern, I've been sitting here, staring at this screen for over five minutes. I'm not sure what to write. I feel low. I feel myself slipping more and more these past few days. I was on top of the world with a man who loved me a few days ago. I was finally feeling okay and starting to believe I was more then just a victim. More then just this piece of shit no one bothers to even look at. Today, I feel like every inch of my physical pain is just what I deserve. I...am just...I don't know. I feel pretty empty. Unfeeling. Just completely done...I want to talk to my boyfriend but I have no energy or will to pick up that phone. I want to scream from the roof top and beg for help but...I don't wanna make a scene. I don't wanna bother anyone. Let's get one thing straight, although I do believe my death would just be another day and wouldn't truly affect anyone's life, I don't want to hurt myself. I won't hurt myself. I am not going to end my own life. I am not able to do that. Although others might not miss me, I would miss them. There are so many people I wanna see grow and be the people I know they can be! My sister recently got accepted to medical school. She wants to be a forensic anthropologist. She's only 17! My brother just had a baby last year and his wife has gone back to school to be a teacher! I wanna see them succeed because they deserve to. My boyfriend is getting physical therapy for his back injury and will soon be able to work again. There's so much I wanna live to see. That doesn't mean I don't feel empty and dead inside. That doesn't mean I can help closing myself off to the world. It feels like here is the only place I can still manage to communicate but I apologize if that changes. I can't go on Facebook or on my phone or even watch TV anymore. I just want to crawl into a ball and sleep away the days. But I won't. I have to work and I can't call in sick again though I do feel very sick. My stomach hurts, my head is pounding like you wouldn't believe and my neck and back feel like I may never stand again. I know I will be fine though. A few muscle relaxants, a few pain meds, maybe a shot of vodka...actually, scratch the alcohol. I will not be turning into my uncle who solves everything with alcohol and medication. But I'm still taking those meds. I need them to be able to make it through work tonight. Please don't judge me... Sincerely yours, Alice.
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