I Wish I Was Known

I wish I was known. I don't say the things in my heart, not to anyone ever. Obviously it started when I was younger. I learnt to not say anything, and I've perfected the subtle art of saying enough without letting them know any of the details. And certainly none that they could control, or laugh at, or pick apart, or tell others ashamed of their child. But now, I want someone to know me. But I still can't tell anyone. I guess that's the whole thing. I can't say anything without being scared.

Surely this won't last all my life, right? I hope not. I want to learn how to speak, how to talk, but it never works out. Maybe this can count as practise? It's not a conversation flowing smoothly between two equals, but I don't think I really struggle with that part. It's my part. It's me that's wrong.

Is all I do complain? Why can I not just do something about all of this. I'm just so tired all the time. I always want to curl up into a ball under my covers, and not face my problems. It's become a problem lately, I've started noticing how much I dissociate, even at a low level. I'm almost always zoned out. It sucks, I can't engage with anything, and I have no memory. It's so scary not remembering who I was for the past 20 years of my life. It's worse not knowing why I can't remember. I remember the abuse, kind of. I remember it happened, but I don't remember it happening. The abuse can't have been that bad that I don't remember anything. My family aren't that bad, right? I don't know who would want to hurt their child/sibling. I guess it's probably not their fault. They didn't want to, but they didn't know how else to be a parent/brother. I'll never know the reason, or reasons. Or maybe there aren't any. I was abused, and because of that, I remain as a shadow, curled up under my blanket. I wish I was known.