My Journal

@bestboi420

Hi there, i wanted to reply to you because I would be interested in reading your journal. I myself have wrote in the forums and it felt like I'd released some thoughts that I was hanging on to just for a little while anyway.

Only write what you can manage, dont put any pressure on yourself.

12/16/19

TRIGGER WARNING <3 STAY SAFE LOVES

My Dearest Journal,

My more recent situation kind of began when I moved from my father's house, to my mother's. Both are incredibly abusive, just in different ways. My father was a little.. too interested in me. He did some horrible things, which I'm not really in a great mental state to write about right now. Maybe later on, maybe not. I guess I'll see as time goes on and I write more here. I'm a trans male/nonbinary identifying person, so moving to my mother's house didn't make the abuse I was recieving lighten up very much, if at all. She just wasn't interested in me like my father was. My mother preferred to abuse me by playing sick mind games and controlling my life completely. Everything I did, good or bad, always resulted in me either getting locked in my room or the basement, or getting the crap kicked out of me. I couldn't fight back, it was my mother. Even if I had wanted to, which I sometimes did, I had a lot of reasons not to. I have to little siblings, ages one and two, and I couldn't hurt their mother, let alone in front of them. I also have a stepfather, roughly six foot three, who specialises in martial arts. If he decided to hit me, which he would if I ever struck back against my mother, I was as good as either dead or seriously maimed. If I got hurt, who would take care of my little brother and sister? They were my world, and still are. Always will be, if I have any say in it. One day, however, it was too much. I came home from doing some seriously questionable things, and getting plastered while doing said questionable things, to my angry, screaming mother. She was angry because she found two drops of blood on the left elbow of my favorite purple and white jacket. I don't know exactly what those were from, could have been my arms, getting in fights, her beating the crap out of me, who knows? She, on the other hand, was convinced that they were from the cuts I sported on my arm. I was self harming a lot back then, and starved myself down to about ninety-seven pounds. I'm five foot two, and have a very curvy body type (*vomits in trans dude*), so being that light was really bad for me. I looked like a skeleton, and people at my mother's church had started to comment, as had teachers, and my peers. Even people who had previously claimed to hate my guts were starting to express worry about my weight and the cuts on my arms. It got brutal, from shoulder to the ends of my wrists. So, yeah, she was really upset. Not because she was worried for me, but because I was ruining her reputation as a mother in the eyes of her church. She was a youth pastor, as was my step father, so it was important to them. They called me an abomination and a sinner almost daily, if not multiple times a day, because they were such "good people of God" and they could do no wrong, apparently. (Yes, I know that's not how God works, this was just what they told me. I've actually done a lot of research on the Bible and Christianity, and have come to my own conclusions, instead of what they ground into me while I was there.) She screamed at me, and hit me hard across my right cheek, which cut me with her ring. I still have the scar, right on my cheekbone. I was bruised from it, and bleeding. I didn't stagger though, it's not the worst she's done. Honestly, it mostly just ticked me off. What she did next was what actually scared and hurt me. She then told me that she was going to take me to the ER and tell them how horrible my mental health is, and that they would send me away to a residential so that she wouldn't have to deal with my shit anymore. Her words, not mine. I don't swear... Much. (Yes I do. Oops.) The only thought that registered afte rshe said that and started forcing me into the car was, "If I'm not here, who's gonna take care of Sibling Name and Sibling Name? Sure as fuck not gonna be her, she doesn't do shit.. I have to get out, I have to go, fuck, now!" And then I ran. I jumped out of the passenger seat of her car, and ran as fast as I could down the street, away from her house and away from her hell. She called the cops on me right when I left, but I'm good at disappearing in plain sight. Serves her right for teaching me that skill when we used to live in Vegas, so she could pursue her "career". It kept me safe then, and it kept me safe when I ran, too. I ducked through the alleyways and different yards until I got to my friend's house, where I go when stuff and my mother's house pops off and I need help. The time before this was when she hit me hard enough that she busted my lip open, from the top of my bottom lip to my chin. I was covered in my own blood, and stank of copper to high heaven. They thought that I got in a fight or something, but then I told them the blood was my own. It was still dripping when I finished walking the five or six blocks to their house. If only the cleanup for me running would be as simple as a shower and a new shirt. This time, I hopped the fence in their back yard, crying without realizing it, and said "It's now, I need help, I ran away, she was gonna send me off, there's cops after me, I need help, please!" They stopped what they were doing (ripping a bubbler on their back porch) and rushed me inside. I was shaking so hard, looking back. They had invited me to smoke with them, just before this. I was planning on heading back there after checking in with my mother, actually. Oh, how things changed, so so fast. They closed their blinds, and hid everything that could be used against them in the event that cops did show up to search their house, which they would not be doing without a warrant. No one knew that I went there as often as I did, and not many people knew that I was even running with the crowd I was, unless they were also in said crowd. A lot of them didn't go to school, so rumors didn't really spread as quickly as they might have if they did and I was hanging with them there, too. So it wasn't very likely that cops would look for me there. Thankfully. Night was coming really fast, as it was about two months ago when this happened, and night was coming sooner and sooner. I tried linking up with people using my other friend's phone, he lived there too, but no one was able to come get me out of the neighborhood. Instead of waiting for someone to respond, I was sort of saved. Two of the people from the same crowd showed up to my friend's house, wondering why there were so many cops combing the town. They would smoke with me and my friends, but I didn't know either of them super well personally. The taller of the two told me that I could come stay and lay low at his house. He told me his mom probably wouldn't mind, and that it would be fine, and he had to head back anyway. We started walking towards the door after I shook up with everyone there and they wished me luck and told us to be careful. My hands were shaky and cold as I reached for the doorknob. He saw, and opened the door so I wouldn't have the chance to hesitate. I had purple hair and my purple jacket on at the time, and it was freezing outside, so I was double screwed. I stumbled on the step in front of the back door, and he steadied me. I looked up at him, and he just reached over and hugged me. In the middle of all the chaos, outside, in the cold, he held me close. My face was tearstreaked, and I probably looked like crap, but he held me anyway. I told him I though I was going to get caught because of how recognizeable I was, and I didn't know what I was going to do, and he just smiled at me and gave me his giant, warm, dark jacket. I remember it smelling like dried paint and cut wood, and axe deoderant. Nice combination, actually. It made me feel a little safer, so we started walking, and I kept my head down. We made it there, paranoid at every car passing by. He walked me inside, and introduced me to his mother as his little sister's friend. It was plausible, she knew a lot of the same people me and him did, and we were near the same age. I'm a little over a year older than her, she's 13, and I'm about to turn 15. His mom didn't buy it, and asked me if I was the reason that the cops in the neighborhood seemed to be going crazy over something, or someone. I said yeah, that's me. She beckoned me into one of the back rooms of the house, and I told her what had happened, while he stood in the doorway, making sure none of the younger kids came in the room. She told me I could stay, and that I would have to figure out what I was going to do within the next few days. I said thank you, more times than I care to try and count. He showed me to his room and showed me where the bathroom was, and gave me a towel and some clothes to change into. I thanked him, and took a shower. I didn't cry in the shower, though I thought I probably would. I was still in shock of all that happened, I guess. I was still in the "is this seriously me? is this really my life?" phase of the whole processing thing. After I got out and changed, I sat up i the top bunk of his little brother's bed. For the sake of anonymity, I'll call him (the guy, not his little brother) L, since he's a big part of my life now, and I can see myself writing about him a lot in the future. L sat up there with me, and handed me a Newport menthol and a lighter, since he already had one lit. I took it thankfully, since I seriously needed to calm down somehow. We sat there and smoked out his window, which was right next to the top bunk. The lights were off, so no one could see us from the street. "I'm really fucking scared, L. If they find me, I think he'll kill me, my stepdad. I really think he will, like deadass I think he'll just punch me a few times and my skull will be like, nah man, you done. I don't know what I'm gonna do, do I go away? Should I just.." I made a waving motion with my hand and then shaped my hand into a finger gun, miming shooting my own head. Tears were flowing down my face, now. The shaking hadn't stopped, either, and my heart was racing. "Shits gon work out. You just wait and see, alright?" He looked into my eyes, and it felt like for the first time in a long time, someone really saw me. Not my looks, not my family, not my words, but my heart and my pain. It felt like he knew, and he understood, and that it was going to be okay. It felt real, and safe, and I kind of wanted to just float in it, and enjoy the love. I didn't realize love was what it was then, but I know it now, looking back. I leaned in, and he held my hand as he leaned to match my pace. Our lips connected, and it felt right. I felt like the world didn't matter, and I poured my fear, and my pain into that kiss. I poured myself and all the passion and hope I had left into that kiss, as cheesy as it might sound. I remember thinking, "So, this is what feeling safe is? God, if you out there, let this one stay, please," and just sitting with my head on L's shoulder, cig in hand, until we put out our cigs and layed down to sleep. He slept in the same bed as me, his bed, that night. We talked for a long time, and nothing sketch happened, we just layed together and cuddled and talked until I passed the heck out. I think that's the best I can remember sleeping in a really really reeeaally long ass time. If only the morning was that comforting, right? Well, I'll tell you about that next time I write, since L is actually asking me to go play COD with him for a bit, so I'll talk to you later. Love you, Journal. I think writing here was actually a good idea, since I feel a little better.

Love,

Eli <3