This is an autobiography about being abused. I'm writing this as a way to process my trauma, especially since I have recently relapsed in my path to recovery from the aforementioned abuse. There will be heavy discussions of being manipulated and basically everything else you can think of with abuse. If you are sensitive to any of this, please click away now.

I will not say my abuser's name for the sake of privacy, however some will know who I'm talking about within this autobiography. All you need to know is that She hurt me in a way no one else ever could.

I named this project Needle Mountain after the first song on the album 3 by Mom (one of Devi McCallion's many, many aliases), one of my favorite albums of all time. Devi primarily makes music about abuse, and as such, I use her music as a form of coping. I named it that way because Needle Mountain is my favorite song on the album, and because I relate to it.

As of writing this, it is July 17th of 2022. It has been almost two years since I first met Her. Well, it has been two years, since I met Her around... April of 2020, I think. Somewhere around there. But it's been almost two years since I first truly became a part of Her friend group - October 25th, 2020. I remember the date like the back of my hand, because I memorized it so I could celebrate the monthly anniversaries of me being friends with everyone there, and eventually the one year. Unfortunately, I never got to celebrate the one year anniversary. Or fortunately. It depends on how I'm feeling about Her.

My feelings about Her flip-flop a lot - some days I hate Her, some days I wish She was still here with me. Most days though, I don't really think about Her. I just try to forget about Her as much as I can - usually it works, but sometimes it doesn't, and on the days it doesn’t work I enter a puddle of my own guilt and regret. Why did I cut Her off? Why did I leave my closest friend behind? Unfortunately, this happens once or twice a month - maybe more, really depends. I tend to wallow in the past sometimes.

I was 12 at the time. My feelings for Her were set - I got emotionally attached to Her almost immediately, like a parasite feeding off of someone's love, but the parasite isn't the one winning, if that makes sense. She was 19 at the time - which means She was an adult. She thought I was 13 since I lied about my age at the time, but still doesn’t change the fact I was a child.

This wasn't my first taste of unhealthy attachment, however; in 5th grade, age 10, I was attached to a kid in my class. They were toxic and took their anger out on me all. The. Time. I was familiar with this, however it'd been so long since I last got attached to someone that I forgot how to deal with it, for lack of a better way to phrase it. In fact, it got to the point where I couldn’t recognize that feeling.

But, back to Her, She was all I thought about. She consumed every waking thought I had. I could barely even think about anything else but Her. I don’t even recall anything from the period of time I was friends with Her except for when I interacted with Her (and everyone else) because all I thought about was Her. She was my closest friend. I loved Her more than anything else. When She was sad, I was sad - to the point of tears.

I suppose my emotional attachment is partially justified - I was 12 years old, I was at one of my lowest points in life, and I recently left a toxic "friendship." Of course I would’ve gotten attached to Her - She was the only good part about that time. Or, She was, until my boyfriend came in. Even then, I still focused on Her and Her only.

She took that to her advantage. She knew I was attached, because I talked about it in the server the friend group was in. She knew I wouldn't leave Her, because what emotionally attached 12 year old would want to leave their favorite person?

If I said something She didn't like, She would get all passive aggressive with me. It got to the point where every time I talked to Her, I felt like I was tip-toeing around my words to make sure I didn’t piss Her off. I ended up changing myself as a person to please Her, and so I wouldn't piss Her off so often.

On the topic of changing myself, I changed my interests for Her, just so I wouldn't feel left out in conversations about them. Even then, very often, I felt left out, because even if I was very active in the group, I was largely ignored, even by Her. Once, in one of Her servers specifically for mutuals, I saw everyone there had a name role with a color of their choice - except for me. So I asked for one, and She said "I don’t wanna choose favorites." What the fuck does that mean?

Eventually, She started ignoring me more and more. She didn’t talk to me as often. She talked to everyone else more. Whenever I posted art, all I would get from Her was a simple "nice" - but when someone who was a complete stranger to Her posted art, She would compliment their linework, their colors, so on and so forth. Eventually I reached a breaking point, because I noticed a very obvious difference between how She treated my art and other people's art, as well as the art I made specifically for Her.

When I told Her I was gonna make fanart for Her, She told me that She loved me. That made me feel uncomfortable, especially since at the time I was 12 and She was 19. That was when I reached my breaking point, I think. Everything started crumbling.

I vagued Her in a post, ranting about how I’m so fucking tired of the only feedback I recieve for my art being simply… "nice." I wanted compliments for my lineart, my colors, my everything! I made such a big deal out of this because art was (and still is) a big passion for me, and I wanted to make webcomics in the future. All of this was so disheartening. And all of this bullshit coming from the person I cared about most hurt.

She messaged me about it, asking me if my post was about Her. I panicked. I didn't want to lose Her. She was all I had left. Of course I would've lied to her - I was 12, and terrified I was gonna lose my closest friend.

She asked me if I was sure, and I said yes. The next day, one of the people from the friend group had me blocked. I messaged him about it, asking me if he had me blocked, and he said yes. I couldn't take it anymore.

I left the server after that. I didn't wanna be in the same server as someone who had me blocked. That night, I had a full on out breakdown over it. I couldn't even take care of myself. I didn't clean myself in the shower, I didn't brush my teeth, I didn't even get dressed in my pajamas - I just went up to my room in my robe and sobbed so hard my mom could hear me. She checked in on me and I didn't tell her what was going on. Why would I tell her that? Last time I told her about something that happened, she repeatedly denied I was groomed and told me I was in looooooooove with my groomer.

I had multiple dreams about the guilt I had about lying to Her. In one of them, She was my mom, since I saw Her as a maternal figure. She was driving me somewhere, and She suddenly told me "you shouldn’t have done that."

I didn't take care of myself for the next few days. I was at a lower point than I was before. A couple days after, I asked a (now ex-)friend to DM the guy who blocked me and ask him why he blocked me.

It was because he knew I lied to Her.

How did he know? Why did he know? Did She fucking tell him? That was a private one on one conversation between us! Why the fuck did you tell him? Why?

A few more days passed, and I realized everything She did to me was actually... really fucked up. The way She manipulated me, the way She made me feel like I had to constantly tip toe around my words, the way She only cared about me when it was convenient for Her. And yet, I let Her do all of that to me, because I didn't want to leave Her.

It took a lot of work, and encouragement, but the day I realized that, I finally cut Her off. I cut Her off without a word.

I don't remember much after that. I was much happier though. I'm much happier without Her, but sometimes I miss Her too much. Sometimes I hesitate to call Her abusive, even though She absolutely abused me. I feel sick writing to my stomach even writing this - but I need to get it out there. I almost cried writing this, too.

Today, as of July 16th of 2022, I've realized that this still affects me more than I thought it did. I can't believe I even wrote this. I don't know how I should feel. Alas, like I said, I need to get it out there.

I don't know. I'm still wracked with guilt for leaving Her like that. I don't know. I don't know.

I miss Her.