Long-ass rant

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Trigger warning for pretty much anything.

I have had enough. I mean, really, I have had enough. See I’m a protector, I “protect” a.k.a get pissed the fuck off. But what good does that do when I’m never allowed to express my anger? Just cause this bullshit brain of ours didn’t give us the ability to black-out. Now, don’t get me wrong, I do not wish that our dissociation/symptoms were worse than they are, but here’s the thing: I get angry, like, really angry. If I let it out (yell, curse, throw stuff or whatever) I trigger the other alters, and they will want to self-harm or commit suicide. If I keep it in, bottle it all up, I end up splitting and we are left with an alter who wants to kill us off. Do you see why I’d really need to be able to block the others out, so that I can be pissed without hurting them? This is all juts fucking bullshit.

And don’t even get me started on the goddamn school. Everyone keeps saying graduation is just around the corner, but then why the fuck do you keep scheduling in more and more fucking exams, like are you kidding me? We are already struggling badly, being so fucking exhausted all the goddamn time, and now you want to have us study for two more fucking tests? As if we don’t have enough shit to do already? And believe me, I’d refuse to do it but of course it’s not up to me. The others want us to be a good little girl. What a shitload of fuck.

And my dear mental health care professionals who do nothing but makes us worse. Yeah, today we were at our art therapy session, but we just could not bring ourselves to paint anything, in fact, we couldn’t even get up from the chair because we are all 13564523665% DONE. Nemo cried a bit, and before we left the therapist reminded us that we could call a doctor for an emergency appointment or go straight to the ER if we got any worse. HAHAHAHAHAAA what a fucking joke. Our last hospitalization taught me one thing only: it’s better to die than go to the hospital. There, I said it. I’d rather kill myself than go back to those ignorant, incompetent assholes. All they ever do is prescribe pills that only make us worse, refuse to assess/diagnose us and have us tell them our complete fucking life story over and over and over and over. They won’t listen, they won’t care. In fact, they are just as bad as our fucking abusers. 
Not to mention the outpatient doctors, who do exactly the same thing. Douchebagery is probably taught in med school. And I really don’t understand just how they always end up triggering us, every. fucking. time. HOW DO THEY DO IT? Did they read through our journal and try to figure out the best way to crush us and then go for it? It sure as hell seems that way. Oh man do I hate fucking doctors.

And boy am I fucking tired of waiting for our fucking repressed memories to emerge. I literally do not give to flying fucks what happened anymore, I really don’t care how bad it was, I am sick and fucking tired of them fucking lurking in the shadows, and fucking up our lives. Why can’t we just remember so we can actually start DEALING with it, instead of just sitting here waiting like stupid fucking assholes. I hate being left in the dark, I hate the fucking uncertainty. I know, I know, “it’ll come back when you are ready”. I can assure you, I am fucking ready. Hit me with your best shot. I dare, you prick (talking about my brain here).

And to our delightfully oblivious and equally obnoxious abusers, who have no clue what they’ve done. Who have no clue that they shattered us into little pieces. If you hurt us again, I will end you. Until then, I will make sure to keep an emotional distance from you at all times. You might think we’ve don’t remember, or that we’ve forgiven. I will never forget, and I will never forgive. You might think that we’re fine now, and that we care about you and love you. We never have. Never. 

/ Phemie


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