002 The Trial

A rectangle table, I sit at a corner, confused scared sad and disappointed. To my right -I might confuse the order- sits a person who until this very point I thought of to be a friend, family, mentor, to their right sits a person who to their right sits a friend, I used to love, to their right sits another person, a friend I used to love and trust, to their right sits a person who to their right sits a friend, I used to think of as a close friend I loved cared for and trusted, and to their right sits a person who to their right I sat, cornered, a guilty cockroach on trial, all alone, abandoned and scared.
The one to my right (The judge) started with a speech, like a school supervisor lecturing a student on how guilty they are. If this is how the trial starts, if the judge already ruled, what am I doing here? I thought.
Nothing hurt me more than the lying, I know what I am guilty of, I was paying the fuckin price all by myself, doing my best to detach from you. I was losing my mind, I saw the thing that terrifies me the most right in front of my eyes and I was heading there on a speeding train, I saw myself losing it, and this is how to works; you lose your mind trying not to lose your mind.
I built my life around the people on that table, I don’t give a shit about the money or the job or any fuckin bullshit they thought I did. I was losing my fuckin mind and they were there pushing me, gaslighting me, ghosting me. As if everything I thought was real, was honest, caring and loving was a big fuckin lie. My whole world is a fucking lie. My fucking existence is a lie.
Have I lost my mind? Did I do what they are saying I did? Did I read something that wasn’t there? Did I see something that weren’t there?
The friend whom I trusted told me that my memory must be fuzzy, that maybe I wasn’t remembering correctly. And they were right, but they weren’t really right. I have evidence, let me show you! Now, let’s discard that, I am not here to say who’s wrong or who’s lying. But you just called me a fuckin liar! They just call me a fuckin liar and you knew I wasn’t! What are you keeping from me? Have I lost my mind? Am I there yet?
I want a trial, a fair one, where I can defend myself, I have a case, let’s see who’s guilty of what. I won’t let you go away with the lying. I won’t let you blame me for something I didn’t do, and I would never do, and I would rather die before I fucking do. Do you want to talk about fucking responsibility? Let us!
We don’t want to hear your voice, this is what we got.
And then, here they are, doing what any abusive MOTHERFUCKER would do; belittle me, calling me “a self-centered”, “a drama queen”, “a liar”, “a not so mentally stable”.
What would a gang of sociopaths do to a person who is scared for their life, all alone, isolated, who needs any speck of light they can walk towards? They take that light away, out of spite, out of pure evil.

My therapist advised me to write a letter that I won’t send, a letter to people I feel angry towards. But I feel angry towards everyone and everything, What is the fucking point of writing a letter to the wall?
So here I am….
This is not me trying to set a narrative, you can all suck a dick, I don’t give a fuck what any one believes, this is about me, processing my memories my anger and my trauma, and letting go of what I can, I don’t give a fuck about any of them, if they died I would spit on their grave.
You can all fucking choke. I wish you a worse year than the one you gave me.



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