Pain, so much pain...and incredible self-loathing

I realized this week, that I am chock full of self-hatred...and pain. Emotional pain that can tear you to shreds. Picture rolling around in barbed wire on a battlefield with grenades tossed and exploding over your head...unable to get free...That's how much it hurts...sometimes. Oh god, I don't know if the pain will ever end. I feel so beaten...by bloody, mangled fists.
 Self-loathing so thick, I could shove a red hot poker through my hand and That would feel better. How I hate the demeaning, filthy, vile acts I was forced to do. If you had any idea of how repulsive...at how shockingly humiliating the things I was made to do...how frequently...how depraved..how much I hated...and I Had to, forced to appear willing, lest the violent anger surface in the perpetrator and things get even more painful.
 How the fuck was I able to handle, feel and then hide so much pain? It seems fucking impossible. Like wall upon wall of filthy shit bricks, steaming stench...all kept hidden.
 Does this shit ever end?
Can one person even release so much toxic garbage in a lifetime?
I ask you
I ask you
I ask you
The task seems....daunting, out of reach, lofty and highly optimistic
I don't know if I'll ever be free..short of death.
I really wonder sometimes.
Haven't I suffered enough?
I ask you
It feels like I've lived a hundred, hard, imprisoned years. Wrapped in the autism, the dissociation, hiding deep within...pain, screaming, unrelenting pain.
Why
To what end
To what means
For what purpose or gain
No, no one person could ever handle this much...no, of that I am sure
I hate myself for what I did, for how it felt, for complying, for being smart enough to know it was wrong and stupid enough not to stop it
I was a child living in a whorehouse...and I knew it was all wrong
I was fucking trapped, locked in, unable to escape
I buried myself within myself...and still got burned.
I think the only way to even try to heal is with words..scary, frighteningly brutal and offensive words of all that was Never allowed to be said And saying them Once, oft does not work, so I will say them again and again and again until someone hears and they dissipate for good.
I deplore repetition...but they keep resurfacing
I'm tired of holding in all this fucked up shit.
I'm tired of my body breaking down because of secrets and emotions held within.
The outside...oh yeah, the real world...is just a little tame piece of shit...like a carnival ride for toddlers. Yeah, ask me if I give a shit.
The battle, my real world is far and away the most strenuous, back breaking, time consuming, labor and attention intensive thing in my life.
I've hated myself for keeping sooo many secrets, for protecting the guilty and the scum of society. I'm fucking tired of tiptoeing around delicate and taboo subjects that make people uncomfortable.
Who the fuck gave a shit when I was being beaten and abused? Oh, let's not see any bruises or that that little girl needs help. No, let's fucking look the other way and pretend she's telling stories....fathers don't do that shit. Bull Fucking Shit....fucked up blind denying bastards. Open your fucking eyes.
God, I just wanted one person to see me, see what was happening to me, the empty, hollow eyes, the bruises, ...I just wanted one person to crawl out of their fucking denial, and self-centered lives and see....and help. One Fuckin person...was that so much to goddamn ask?
Why did that shit go on and on and on for weeks, months and years without one fucking caring person to say "STOP".... "You look like you need help.....here, how can I help you?"
Betrayers, lacking empathy and common fucking sense. Surrounded by sooo many people....and Not One of Them Would See
WTF
Maybe I am bitter. Maybe I feel Enormously betrayed by Family, Friends, Teachers, Counselors, Priests, Neighbors...every fucking person who had contact with me the beaten broken child. I feel utterly and hopelessly betrayed. Bunch of lazy no good uncaring fucks.
Every fucking day...I just wanted ...someone to see me....someone who cared...who wanted to know what it was like at home...to ask why I was always so sad...why I rarely smiled and even rarer laughed.
But there was no body...no body...no one. Yeah, thanks god, left me amongst this pile of shitheaded fucks.
I was so hurt...that no one cared enough...to step a foot, outside of their plain, paltry lives to help one little child.
I have no faith in people...go Fucking Figure.
I remember teachers...a teacher or two...that gave me hope. Maybe they looked at me with a kind eye one day...or started asking a question and then stopped.
My fourth grade teacher...she was on to something....she knew something was wrong....but never really followed through. By that age, I had tried sending out signals....silent cries for help....didn't work.
By nine, I was hopelessly resigned to that life of treachery, confinement, prostitution and daily beatings. My god, anyone who looked at me could see the despondency reeking out my pores. I'd break out in tears once or twice a week, at school. Nope, let's just let her be. Don't get involved...they're a good catholic family.
I was a nobody. Bunch of ignorant fuckers.
And they let him get away with it....abusing how many children? And for how many years? Alllll Guilty!! Fucked up bastards.
Yeah, I'm angry, I'm hurt, I'm fucking disillusioned with "humanity" and stupid ignorant people who refuse to help suffering innocents.
Yeah, blow that one up your ass.
That's a lot of shit...a lot of stored shit that I've been carrying around and too afraid to share. Still hurts...but not so vehemently.
I regret I didn't tell someone. I regret that I was too scared that I would be taken out if my family home if anyone found out. See, family was familiar and strangers were unpredictable danger. I regret I was autistically, naively and childly stupid.
In my mind, to be removed from the family home....was more scary than the shit I went through everyday. It was unknown. Unknown = scary. I sealed my own fate. Sometimes still blame myself. Sometimes wish I had been a stronger more obstinate child.
If I had told one person
If one person had cared enough to pry, inquire
If one
Do me a favor
At the bottom of this post are three comments, one of which is "I read this".....if you have had the strength and courage to read this tirade....if you heard me...click "I read this"
It's completely anonymous
I just want to know if anyone can hear me