Like seriously, nobody fucking cares. Nobody. Sometimes I get really sick n fucking tired of everyone coming to me about their fucking problems, yet none of those fucking people are ever there for me when I'm having a hard time. No one. Not my husband, not my mom, not my best friends, not even the random people I let come around to smoke with me. Nope, none. If I say anything has bothered me it's right onto whatever their fucking problem is. Jerks, I need people too. I need someone to care, someone to listen ... Just someone to give a fuck. Ok, I lied, there is one who cares, my puppy but that's not the same as a human being.
PTSD is a bitch. I know I need someone and I've reached out and gotten nothing in return. So here I am, on the world wide web, writing my heart out because I have to release it somehow. It's better than just letting it bottle up inside, at least this way I am able to express my feelings and emotions even if no one reads it or if they do they don't give a fuck either. I am here. I have a problem. I have no support. I've asked for it but nobody actually knows how to be there for me when I need it.
The other night as I just lay down and grab my stuffed animal to get cozy and fall asleep, I hear gunshots. Multiple gunshots outside my window. My phone starts ringing instantly as my grama calls because she heard it to from her room downstairs. I look out the window and don't see anyone or signs of anyone having been there. I call my husband since he was home, across the street in our house. He answers and then proceeds to tell me "well I didn't hear anything" I give a fuck that you didn't hear it, you were sleeping. Making me feel like he didn't believe me when I was having a full blown panic attack because of what I just heard, pisses me off more than he will ever know. Obviously I had stayed at my grama's that night. As I was almost ready for sleep when this happened, my night stretched on forever. I looked out all the windows about 40 times. When I heard it, it took me a moment to realize I hadn't just been shot again. Had my grama not called immediately, I probably would have laid there paralyzed in fear. But I was up, I was shaking and when I called for reassurance I was not believed.
I'm mad. I'm hurt. I'm scared. I'm feeling resentment and hatefulness. And I don't fucking like it.
I text my best friend after it happened she didn't respond to me until the next day at 5. It happened at 1am. Bullshit she didn't notice my text until then. I get that she has major stuff going on right now but SOB she's supposed to at least respond to me.
As my whole next day seriously sucked, nobody cared. Nobody. Nobody understands what it's like to be shot in a drive-by and nobody understands how absolutely fucking hard it is to live with it daily. So of course not a single person would understand that when gunshots are popped off right outside my bedroom window that it would make me crumble. I appear strong and always smiling as I hide the demons inside. I do this because I want to be happy and if I keep telling myself I am then eventually I will be. But there are times I would just like someone to be like how are you really? But no one ever will be. My husband didn't even ask how I was the next day when I had specifically said to him I was having a panic attack. Really, not even gona ask? Whatever. Everybody suck's.
So here I am letting my life out through the internet with no one to actually care about me or talk to me about the problems I face.
Tomorrow will be different as I will have forced myself to move forward but deep down I'll just know, the only one here for me is me.
