I am a leach. I will attach and suck you dry of all that you have available to give me. I am always taking, taking, taking, taking. It will never stop. I will never not be a leach. I can’t be filled up enough, I am endlessly, disappointingly, needy. I am poison.
I am only human. I have emotions as every human has, and it’s healthy and healing to express my feelings. I crave connection and physical touch and words of affirmation. I am not needy, I need to learn that I’m loved. I will not need this level of care that I constantly worry is burdensome and exhausting for my wolf pack forever. I am brave and strong and sensitive.
I am rotting inside. I represent chaos and badness. I am weak. All of this is contained in a grotesque body.
My body, as it is, does incredible things. I am grateful it is the perfect place for my sweet children to snuggle. I am grateful it allows me to create connections with people I love and who love me. I am grateful it’s so smart it knew to keep surviving and to wait until it found safety to really start feeling again.
I am thankful it allows me to seek purpose and be empathetic and caring. I love that my journey might be helpful to someone else.
Stop writing. Stop reaching out. Disconnect. Shutdown.
Do not, DO NOT, do not do any of those things. Keep writing. Keep reaching out. Keep connecting. Keep feeling.
Keep loving and letting others love me. This is the baseline for everything else.
Fuck off! Stop!
Yes. I’m allowed to embrace anger and hurt and I’m allowed to scream it out.
One day everything will make sense. I am hopeful.
I am a badass warrior rockstar survivor. And I will keep going.