For years i never spoke to anyone, never opened up. Now for the first time in what felt like forever I had... I blindly trusted I was finally going to be heard, that things were going to change and I was going to be alright. Little did i know things were never going to change. Just as time and time before i was asked if i was lying. My whole life I've been told I'm a liar. That I was "asking for it", or that I was trying to justify my mistakes. Since when has anyone heard of a twelve year old asking to be raped? I came to SF because I was in deep pain. I'd attempted twice already to bring my pain to a definite end, and came to SF as a last thread of hope. After years of lacking a proper support system I quickly embraced anyone who offered theirs. I embraced the idea that I was going to heal. But more than one have already asked me if I was telling the truth. Worse, I'd never doubted their pains, nor did I think I'd given them a reason to doubt mine. Because thats what people do? they lie about their pain? really? asjdflaasdfjl. How could anyone make up pain this deep? I even have fucking photographs of my rape that he sent me. Do I really need to give those up just for someone to believe me? ...Why are just my words never enough? What's worse is that I'm quick to forgive. Because the few friends I did make here on SF in the short time I've been here had been the only friends I'd had since I was twelve. And I was no where ready to lose that again. In fact, the only person who really did believe me has now left me. Whether it was just for the night in a rage of fury, I will be convinced it's forever until she does comes back. Imagine finally connecting with someone, finally feeling you were ready to let someone in again, and no matter how much you say "I'm sorry" a million times over for having said something you shouldn't, they leave. There's a chance she'll talk to me again in the morning, but how can I forgive myself for pushing away the only person I was truly ready to let in? So between the accusations of lying and the quick gain-and-lose of friends, I've really hit a fork in the road. I haven't decided whether I'll stay on SF or not. All I can hope for is that one day, someone, somewhere, will hear me, and believe me, when I speak. And that one day, someone, somewhere, will not get tired out and leave. In the end, that's all we can do, right? Hope that change does await us. No promises, no guarantees. So before I got to bed now, I hold tightly onto the hope that tomorrow morning all will have been remedied and that tonight will have been forgotten. For as much as it's worth, I'd never had anyone hold me back from harming myself my past two attempts. And now I've actually been held back (so far) from my third attempt. The difference? Three people. And they should know who they are.