Strength For My Story

Another night of deep thinking and reasoning. Emerging from a history of abuse, trauma and hatred isn’t straightforward. I don’t want to solely define myself as a survivor of narcissistic tyranny. I want to emerge as a greater human being overall with more to me than somebody’s else’s persecution. My mental capacity is still being stretched and tested to the max as we speak. I am rising to the challenge and currently trampling all over any insecurities arising from deep within.

People have committed suicide over far less.

I don’t see myself as above anybody else. I only know that my experiences make me different. I suppose that most people who have transcended hardship can testify to that. Amen to them. If you haven’t been through anything then I guess it’s lucky you. Nothing to complain about.

I have suffered enough on planet Earth. Of that much I am positively certain. My addictions left me exposed to bullies taking advantage. I kind of asked for it. Only now do I feel strong enough to stop letting them injure me anymore. I am severing their pipeline into my emotions and breaking free.

I feel extremely strong and confident. I’ve been working out my life story. It’s one hell of a testament. Quite hard to believe, in fact. With the modern futuristic terrors of mind control, it reads like a science-fiction account. It’s terrifying. It’s supernatural. It’s technological. It’s Godly.

I am a Child of God, and all Satan’s little brown-nosing helpers can get f**ked away.

Do I sound like I’m trying hard to convince myself of that? I can’t recall ever saying it before. Do I repeat myself over and over? God is easy to forget, when there is something hissing in the cupboard, or when you’re being followed at night by a gang. It’s vital we keep our eyes on Him. The world will try anything to take your mind away from His grace.

I’m glad I didn’t get lost along the journey. Some very wicked individuals had my soul in their pocket at one point, and I was lucky to come out the other side with my life. Once I was assaulted in my own home with a blade by several invaders. When I was down they stood on my head and posed for photographs. Then they pumped poison spray into my face over and over again to kill me. It made me weak as anything but I managed to crawl outside. I had to dig very deep for that willpower to make it away. I wish I could say it was the only murder attempt I’ve prevailed through.

At the time, when dark bizarro is happening, I’m too shocked to accept what is going on. It’s only after time, with the opportunity to look back on events, when I start feeling rather positive about my survival instinct. I did well there, I think to myself. You should be proud.