Just my thoughts and ramblings

I guess, this is a diary entry that is becoming public.
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I'm giving up. I'm calling it quits. I have no more fight, no more strength left in me.

I come from a terrible past, one that follows me with every step, I find someone who is willing to accept me, for me. For the baggage I carry, and in stead they turn out to do me the same as my past. They start off wonderful, and perfect they bring my walls down after months of nothing(for 1 it took them over a year) they stuck through it all, and then just beat me down with their words, with their fists, and leave me all over again. Making me feel as if everything I got, the disrespect, the punishments, was my doing. I deserved it all. Finally in my time of breaking, I see that I don't deserve it.

Is it so wrong, that if you do drugs I'd like to know that your safe and not driving like you used to do? Is it so wrong, that if you have warrants out on your name and I've already picked you up from jail a couple times that I'd like to know your safe at your destination? I don't want to know the exact location, just that your safe, and not sitting in jail. Is it wrong, that when my broken ribs are hurting me bad enough I'm in tears that I'd like my lover to hold me... Even if it means I'm calling you home from friends though you've spent the last 3 days with them ignoring me? Is it wrong, that I come from a past of cheaters, that I fret when you are talking sweet to another girl, and that I wish you would tell others that we are in a relationship.. not lie and say you are single? Am I such a terrible, clingy, jealous person by asking for those things?

It seems, every one I've dated, can't handle that.

I'm locked away, a doll on the shelf, only around and noticed when you want to play with me.. Everyone treats me that way, my so called "friends", those I fall in love with, even my parents did it when I was a child.. I was the poor girl locked in her home 24/7, home schooled, never allowed to go anywhere unless my parents were holding my hand, not allowed to have friends unless picked out specially by my parents.. Even to do this day, after moving out, my days are Work, College, and home. I rarely go out, and when I do, it's to get drunk alone.. Like a sad puppy with no home.

I'm a girl, a woman if you must, who has scars all over her body, Almost all inflected by the people I thought I was in love with, a few like the "Kill Me" carved into my thigh, the ones along my arm, and only a couple of those along my neck are my doing. I'm young, yet to my mind, body, and heart, I've been through Hell and Back so many times the flames no longer hurt. They bring me comfort.

I'm breaking down piece by piece. I can't do this anymore. I can't fake the smiles, I can't fake the happiness. I can't hold myself together.

I'm done with it all. I'm calling it quits.