(Author’s note: I know this is meant for a poem, but I wanted to make a story anyways <3)

Can you hear me? Because it feels like he doesn’t. I tell my boyfriend that I’m scared. But he just laughs and tells me to relax. That I’m paranoid. That it will never happen again. That I’m safe and I’m loved.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t there when I was texting ‘I miss you’ at 1:23 am. And then upside down dialing the police at 1:24 am.

Can you hear me? I tell my therapist that I’m broken. But she tells me I’m fine. That my ptsd is just a figment of my imagination. That I’m safe and I’m loved.

But you weren’t there when I turned over to look at my Mom. Seeing her unconscious with blood dripping down her face.

Can you hear me? My distant family doesn’t want me. I stood with them for about 3 days before they tried to give me to another family member. Like I wasn’t a person, but a package that needs to be returned to sender. But that sender is long gone.

But you weren’t there. You weren’t there when I put red roses at my mothers casket before she was lowered 6 feet under. Didn’t see the blood on my hands that no one else could see.

You don’t hear me when I speak. When my feelings are clearly written on my face. So I just won’t speak anymore. I won’t tell you how I fear becuase it only falls to deaf ears. I’ll go away. It’s ok. It’s clear that you don’t need me.

It’s ok.