A really long 'doesnt make much sense post with a trigger warning'

I really wish someone i knew was working for the out of hours service tonight. I've got to know most of them now, and a lot of them know that I spend a bit of time talking total rubbish until i might hint at whats wrong, and theyve got good at reading between the lines. For the last week, i've had all thi sshit banging about in my head;and everytime ive called ive just got the 'have a hot bath routine'.are you kidding me?I already feel like im slowely melting, clearly a hot drink and bath aint gonna help!haha. But you get what i mean. Tonight, I just want to cry. I started talking to someone I hadnt spoken to before, and i was just getting brave enough to talk about what was going on and she told me she had to go, cos her phone line was busy. Er, thats what switchboard call back system is for-I use it-so i know i sound selfish here-but so the fuck can everyone else. So before i jolly on up to A&E to get sewn back together for the second night in a row, I thought maybe I would try and write about what im thinking.Incidently-why is it always BLUE string they use?would it kill them to get some pink haha.sorry.bad joke.And couldnt they tie the stitches in little bows?ok, im stopping now.

Im really confussed. My brain aches. My last post-it wasnt so people would write nice things about me-tho thanks very much, ur all lovely and made me blush-im genuinelly perplexed by it. I really cannot stand myself right now. So much so that I seem to be trying to literally cut my stomach away.or something like that. I hate myself, i make my own skin crawl. You know when you have suffered with depression over a long period-and you can tell when your about to drop right down, no matter how you try and back pedal? that how i feel right now. My jaw and face muscles are all so tense-like they want me to not talk.This always happens at the start of a massive downer. The weird slleping pattern, the mood swings, its all there, and i know it was kinda enevitable, and im not just giving in to it-but its soo consumming. When your head wants you to give up and hideaway, then suddenly your body does too.

Heres what I wanted to say to out of hours-that I doubt myself, i doubt what happened, and its making me feel sick.All these years-i knew what happened-as much as i tried to filter it away-but now-well, it seems hazy and vague, and like i maybe deserved it for leading him on. I really appreciated your comments on that Elk, and Jess-and reading it-i 100% get it, but i try and think it through, and i just cant, it gets lost somewhere. And i think id agree with anything the defense lawers might say just to get them to shut the hell up and leave me the fuck alone, and stop making me think about it. I got a typed out version of my phone convo with lawyers from the other day. seeing it, reading it-thats not what happened-its not-they twist it, and they take away the bad bits and hide them with the fact that i had a drink and i flirted with him. I accepted a drink form him-er, hello, how does that make it ok for him to spike it-. Their version makes me seem like a slut, and I am NOT.well, at est i didnt think i was until about 10am this morning when i saw it in black and white. Why didnt I tell the doc at hosp that I had been assualted-'my answer-becasue i was off my head on LSD thankyou very much'. their version of that is that i was totally drunk so couldnt be sure-er no.i dont think so.

But thats what everyine there will hear, and belive, because i dont have the fight left anymore to make them see how it really was. So whats the point even. They just see a girl who was pissed up and 'slept with someone, changed her mind so cried rape' and didnt try and go to the police again at the time. well would YOU after that?

They dont see the after effects. They wern't there when I found out i was pregnant-they dont care about that. They werent there when i had an abortion.and they dont know how messed up i am as a result-cos that doesnt matter to them. That i see myself in a mirror and feel so disgusted by what i see, that the only way i feel better is to cut, and that i cant eat anything without puking up after.They dont know what its like to feel noone in the world belives you, they dont know whats its like to have your mum refuse to talk to you for years because you had ot have a termination. They dont see how i cant let anyone touch me, that even my friends can make me flinch, that sometimes im so scared of my boyfriend (even though he is lovely, and wouldnt hurt a fly) that i wish more than anything in the world that i was dead. Jack hugged me the other day, because i was crying.and i hit him.not because HE upset me-because touching just cant happen sometimes.how do you even explain that.Actually he gets it.and tells me he might enrol in self defense. But seriously-if we are a product of our life experiences-then that had a massive impact on how i am now. And that-the effects of it, have dome mre damage than the event itself ever could. And you know what?

they will never know that.

and that is what makes me so fucking sick.