Repost: freakish

Funny enough that...My abuse was pedestrian.
Sadly not exceptionally bad.

I even had one sane parent...in denial, yeah, but sane.

And I blocked it all out, dissociated, blanked everything that happened.

Was able to forget the neighbor, my uncle. Forgot my Dad as it happened, every night...I forgot so he could keep me safe.

But that meant I went insane during the day.
I had a voice that screamed in my head, over and over again, in a drunk Australian accent...and I'm American, I didn't even know what that accent was as a child...
The voices yelling incoherently in my head, the fears, the terrors....the television theme songs in my ears.
I guess I was going psychotic because of what my Dad was doing...I was shattering inside...I was six. I was just a six year old child and nobody would have believed. Nobody.
Most people don't know what it's like to no longer be in reality...

And for having had this breaking of my mind and soul done...I feel forever isolated.
On bad days contaminated...but even on good days, estranged.
People who weren't tortured every night by having a beloved father force his dick into a body far too small for such...most people...they won't understand.

And even worse, I grew to like this price he exacted for his attention and affection. His insane substitute for the love I needed, and I went insane, and was aroused, and wanted the sex...and that the most horrid and loathesome thing of all...

People don't understand this, people don't believe this, I can't stand this, I am stamped with this horrid thing, every inch.

I want to be loved and accepted but I feel like I've been forever...set apart, rendered very different, made alien, by this thing. I'm always going to be sad and broken spirited somehow...

Something crucial was destroyed. I don't know if I can grow it back or it's just gone.

Gee, that was rambly. Bedtime now.

I'm terrified to sleep, but if I don't I'm going to wreck another car.