Anonymous #6

 

It’s someone’s Birthday.

The horrible part is that he/she has no name. 

I’m sorry I was not there to help make a better choice.

I thought I had rubbed off better to show the best out of life.

I thought my word was enough to help with life.

I heard this song and thought of you.

I wanted to tell you that I think of you often.

You have a little sister you know.

One day I will tell her about you.

I can’t take back what was done

But I will learn and grow from it.

Your dad didn’t stick around.

Your mom was a not the best.

 

But today I wanted to say Happy Birthday 

I love you….. Love Grandma

Anonymous #5

In the office I work at I try to keep a low profile so that I don’t have to say much. I keep quite just to avoid conversations with a certain coworker because he bothers me so.  Well one day he brought in some fruit and left in the fridge. Well I don’t know if he forgot it was their but 2 days later I still saw it in the fridge. I picked up the container and saw that the fruit was already growing mole even though it was so small I could see it. I didn’t throw it away because it’s not my job to do that and I didn’t say anything to him because I figured he would take care of it himself. I never thought that an hour later I would see him walking out of the kitchen with his container of fruit. I saw him eating it and I didn’t say anything. In my mind I thought can’t he taste that the fruit has gone bad? Has this man’s taste buds disintegrated? I can’t believe he is still eating it. He sat there and finished his fruit and I never said a word. Yes in a way it was satisfaction for all the shit he talks.

 

Anonymous #4

          I am the average person. I work a 9-5, I go home clean house make sure dinner is on the table. I help take care of my family. I dress like an average person. Well what I mean is that I don’t stick out in a crowd. I am the person that can easily be overlooked. I always wear a smile to never show what is screaming on the inside.

 

          I have many friends and never do I take the time to share with them the worries that sit heavy in my soul. Although a good friend to them I am. I cant help but help them to blow off steam and vent to me. I try to help them in the troubles they seem to not be able to fix. I console them when they cry. I hug them when the pain is just too much to take. I take care of everyone around me and make sure that I keep them laughing cause I am a firm believer that laughter is the best medicine in the world.

 

          I have wiped tears and watched as I help the frowns turn into smiles. I have watched family and friends cry a thousand tears when no one else seemed to take the time to hold their loved ones near. I have been there day in and day out. I rush in when needed and then after the emergency is over I fade back into the woodwork. When everyone else seems to be too busy to help I am the one who will drop it all. They know they can count on me to be there when needed no questions asked.

 

          As the years passed I found that I too needed a friend. Who could I call on? Who could I trust? Who will have the time for me? I called on a few friends and found that what I had to say was too much for them to handle. In a result of them not kowing how to handle what I needed to let out they told me of what they were going/went through that resembled what I was going through. As they started to share their story, I soon disregarded mine and no longer felt like sharing. All I could do was smile as the pain inside was growing increasingly stronger. I realize that I need to continue to hold on and push down my worries until I can find the friend who would listen.

 

          I tried to find that friend that would just be there when I needed them. Someone who would not judge the life I lived or the past that has been hidden. As the inside of me just wanted to SCREAM OUT and cry I thought I would never find that friend to help me breathe. Oh but the day came and I found that friend. It’s a shame that no one can ever meet him. I’m too afraid people will judge him for what he gives me. So when all is silent and no one is around I call on my only friend who can help me release all that hides inside of me. He relaxes me and slowly allows all the pain to fade away. I can sit back and count on him to release the unseen. No tears are needed No words are spoken.

 

         I don’t remember how he found me but I don’t care because he has shown me how to feel free of pain and what a beautiful release he is. I run to him when my smile starts to tarnish. I have to keep this smile on my face that everyone knows me for. I have to keep myself giddy for the audience around me. Can’t disappoint them because I don’t want to answer the questions of what is the matter? There are times I want to answer that question but I know they wont be able to understand what I am going through. My friend and I have an understanding. When I start to feel that I need to scream I can run to him and he listens. He doesn’t question me and he doesn’t judge me. He simply lets me release and accepts me unconditionally. It has been a while since I have seen my friend. I miss him terribly. A promise was made and I am having the hardest time trying to keep it. I didn’t want to give up the only friend that listened to me at the drop of a dime but I did.

 

Dear Friend,

              I have not seen you in a few months. I miss you terribly. I am fighting the urge to call on you to help me polish this tarnished smile. I need to learn to polish it on my own without you. Even though you are much faster and easier of a release, you are unhealthy for me, And I need to turn my back on you.  I would still call on you if I could. I just hope I can be strong and ignore the urge to call on you when I am at my weakest. Friend please do not come looking for me and stop giving me signs that you miss me.

 

                     I am sure the curiosity is killing you as to who my friend is…. Well…. He plays a dangerous game but I have to give up his name…. Self mutilation, He is my fascination.

Anonymous #3

I really don’t know where to begin. I suppose I can start where I last remember something good about my childhood. My parents were still together, and we lived in California. I can honestly say I was somewhat spoiled! My father was a truck driver, and my mom did odd jobs and mostly stayed at home with us. When I say us, I mean my older sister and brother, myself, and my little brother. My world as I knew it would soon be turned upside-down. Little did I know what lie ahead of my young life…
 
In 1980 my parents moved to Arizona. Most of my mother’s family was here, so I think she pressured my dad to bring us out here. As far as I can remember, things were okay for about a year or so. We did the usual family stuff; birthday parties, vacations, weekend outings, but eventually, things would turn sour. My mom married very young (my dad was her second husband), and when her first husband passed away, she was forced to take on the role of both mother and father to my older siblings. She met my dad, and things seemed to look brighter for her. (I’m assuming!) But I suppose that she never got the chance to really have a life outside of her children, and the opportunities that were presented to her were usually looked at as distractions, because they would take her away from her kids.
 
My parents started fighting more often, and what it boiled down to was that my mom felt trapped. My father worked on the road, and was not home much; my mom cleaned houses and didn’t really have much of a social life. So, when my dad did come home, she wanted to go out and have a good time with or without her spouse. My dad wasn’t really the outgoing type, so he offered to stay at home and keep us kids so that my mom could go and have some fun. That was his biggest mistake, in my opinion. She started going out more often after that, and soon would even go out when my dad was not home and we would just stay home by ourselves. I guess that’s not really a big deal, being that my sister was 14, my brother 12, and I was 7. The thing that bothered me at the time was that my little brother was only 2.
 
One day, when my mother hadn’t been home all night, my dad told us to get up and start cleaning the house. He told us he was going to pick my mom up, and he would be back in a while. What we didn’t know was that my father had caught my mom having and affair and was on his way to murder the man she was sleeping with.
 
Things after that were kind of a blur to me, and I have a hard time recalling what happened next. I just remember my father dragging my mom in the house, knife in hand, and telling us to stay in our rooms. We were terrified, but did as we were told. My older brother was yelling at my dad to leave my mom alone, but my dad just told him to stay away, and he wouldn’t hurt her. By that time all I remember is policemen in our front yard telling my dad to come out of the house. He finally went out there, and they arrested him. My mother had fainted by a tree in our yard, and I was just crying. A police officer took me by the hand and escorted me to a patrol car. They took me to the police station and kept asking me questions. I can’t even remember how I even got home after that. Things were a mess.
 
Fast forward about a month and I am living with my grandparents in Phoenix. My mother has since jetted off to Mexico to be with her lover. He recovered from the stab wounds my father gave him, and they left the minute he was released from the hospital. I am going to school, just trying to forget the fact that neither one of my parents is here, plus I am having to defend myself to my siblings and my grandparents. They really don’t like me. I’m sort of a burden to them all. Being that my older siblings’ father died, they received Social Security checks, and my grandparents are able to support them that way. I, on the other had, have nothing to offer them but a headache. My little brother is just cast off to whoever will baby-sit him, since he is so young, and doesn’t require much care besides feeding and changing.
 
So begins the molesting. My grandfather is a religious man, thumping his bible at every opportunity. My grandparents go to church three times a week, twice on Sundays. I am usually forced to go with them, since I am the one that would cause trouble at home, they say. I hated it. I could not wait until it was time to go back to my familiar hell-hole. Mostly because I couldn’t stand listening to my grandfather talking about God, and then coming home to touch me. It was nauseating. The touching began soon after we moved in with them. It first began with just tight hugs. He would offer me a dollar or two if I would just be quiet. At first I agreed, thinking, “He’s my tata, he’s not trying to hurt me.” I wish I was right. Slowly, over the course of about a year, it began to escalate into more that just hugs. Finally, one day before going to school, he came into my room for whatever reason, and tried to ‘hug’ me again. I screamed,” No, leave me alone!” My grandmother and sister were in the kitchen and heard me yell. He quickly handed me two dollars and headed down the hall. As I walked through the house I could hear him telling my nana and my sister that I was being disrespectful, and would have to find someplace else to live. I thought that was the best idea in the world. But, I was wrong again….

Anonymous #2

For about 3 yrs. now, I’ve worked for a company near my house.  It started as a summer job, and offered me pretty much whatever hours I wanted to work. In the fall, I would go back to my regular job. Anyhow I had been with this summer job for about 2 1/2 years now, on and off, when, one of the times that I went in to do some hours, they introduced me to some of the ‘newbie’s’.  Side Note: I’m very frank, and oftentimes, blunt!  So, when I 1st meet these people, my habit, right off the bat, is to kind of give them a hard time about being fresh meat, etc… Well, this young 20-something kid comes up to me and says, “You are such a lovely lady! Can I have you as my trainer?”  I laughed it off, and told the poor boy that I wasn’t ‘qualified’ to train anyone, but if he had any questions, I would be glad to help.  Well, throughout the course of our work relationship, he constantly expressed interest, and I told him that I was married with kids, and had no time for his flirting games. He always acted really cocky around everyone, and I would always put him in his place!  I don’t know if he considered this foreplay, or what!

 

Well, one Saturday, it was just our super, myself and this guy.  The boss had to sit up in the front office to take incoming appointments and calls, so that left us in the back office making confirmation calls.  I was at one end of the office, he at the other.  A call came in, and he asked me to go over and help him give this lady some info, so I went over and sat at the cubicle next to his. Well, I have to admit, he’s not so bad looking, 6′5″ and has some beautiful arms (guns!) and so, I did have a hard time concentrating on the call. So, I’m on the line with this woman, when he starts rubbing my thigh.  At first, I moved his hand away, and scooted over a little further. He keeps getting closer, and I finally smack his hand, hard! The lady on the phone asked if I’m okay, because I’m trying not to laugh, and I just asked her if I could give her a call back in a few.

 

No sooner do I hang up the phone and stand up to go back to my seat, this man PICKS ME UP OFF THE FLOOR!!!  I have never had a man (been able to) do that to me before in my LIFE!!  That’s all it took! He starts slowly letting me down while he kisses everything that passes his face.  We start kissing, and, I swear, I felt like butter melting in his arms. So, by this time, I have, like, NO morals, or anything! We call up front to say that we are going on a ’smoke break’ and we’ll be back in a few.  We are in the break lobby.  We go down, and figure, ‘It’s the weekend, there’s no one in the whole building’! We go to the restroom on the 3rd floor.  There are a lot of empty offices, and they are wide open.  He starts undressing me, and I him, and we just start going’ at it!! Yes he had a rubber!!

 

  Anyways, I tell him to get totally naked, so I could watch his chest and arms in the mirror, and he does. We are really getting in to it, when……….. This poor old lady walks into the restroom!!!!!!!  I heard the door first, so, I push him off me, and grab the pile of clothes on the floor… his included, and hide in a stall!!!  I left him there holding himself, and she walks in just in time to see my butt, and him cupping what’s left of his ‘manhood’!!!!! She lets out a little scream, and runs out of there! I am in the stall, standing up, just short of peeing on myself from laughing!  I guess I could have sat down, huh? He comes over and is R.E.D. from embarrassment! I give him his clothes,  I’ve already gotten halfway dressed!) and we walk back to the elevator….. We still talk now and then.

Anonymous #1

I used to live in an apartment when I was a child with my family. My mother was the neighborhood friend. If someone needed to talk, or someone needed to be saved, my mother was their hero. One night the neighbors were fighting and of course my mother went over to try to help them out. To stop the drunk fighting they were doing my mother walked over the drunken husband to our apartment to sleep it off on the couch and in the morning he could return to his place where he could talk to his wife sober and fix their problems. (That is what I was told)

 

This is what I remember: Snuggled in my blanked sleeping… when I start to feel weight on my legs then my chest. I can remember I was slowly waking up to find a man on top of me rubbing his hand up and down my girl parts. My pajama pants were at my ankles and I still had on my underwear. I tried to push him off and when that didn’t work I started to cry. I continued to try to push him off but it wasn’t working. He continued to push himself on me and when I kept fighting him he pined down my arms and I felt helpless. I couldn’t fight back and out of frustration I screamed so loud I woke up my sister and my brother and then they started to yell. I remember my sister and my brother hitting him in the back and he got mad and left. I put my pajama pants back on and we all went to the living room where watched him leave.

 

My sister called my mom and told her what had happened. I was more confused than anything. When my mom arrived she hugged me and she started crying. I was so young I didn’t understand what was going on. The rest of that night was a blur. The next week was a blur as well. But what I do remember was hearing my mom yell out the front door I’m calling the cops. I can’t say to whom she was yelling at or what was going on. I was playing Barbie’s with my sister on the floor. Days and weeks past and I didn’t see him. The next thing I remember was we were having a party and my sister and I were outside right by the front door playing when I saw the man who had woken me up that one crazy night. I didn’t flinch I didn’t even speak I was frozen. My sister on the other hand raced in the house and got my dad. I remember my dad yelling at that man who had hurt me and me hiding behind my dad’s leg.

 

A few days later I remember sitting on my dad’s lap at the police station watching my sister and brother playing on the floor. Then my dad and I were called into an office where I was to talk to someone about what had happened. They asked me questions but it was like if I couldn’t hear them. I could only see their lips moving. My dad kept asking me something but I blocked them out. The next thing I knew they made my dad go away and a girl cop asked me questions again. My mouth would move but nothing came out. I was speechless. I couldn’t say a word. After a while when they couldn’t get anything out of me I was told to go back with my dad.

 

As a child I never knew the consequences or the repercussions. It wasn’t until years later when I was about 15 maybe 16 when the nightmares started. Waking up in cold sweats! It wasn’t until then when I realize that I could have put that bastard behind bars. How many other children had he done something to? Did he get worse?  Why didn’t I speak? All these questions in my mind I couldn’t answer made me so upset. Almost 20 years later I took a drive back to those apartments and all the memories hit me like a rock. I was a child then. I didn’t know any better. These were the thoughts I used to validate the questions I had and to help me cope with my feelings. But still till this day I don’t think it will ever be enough. I could have saved another child.