One day these bitches are gonna regret treating me this way. There gonna look me in my face In shame and beg for me to come home. Their gonna plead with me to send them money when their lost on their feet and if they somehow make it, their going to feel some type of way when I'm flithy rich and far better off without them.
They call me a brat for the littlest of things, scream at me for the smallest. I found that they dont have to put their hands on my body to make me feel like shit, all they need to do is stir up the large feet of depression festering inside of my body. Theyll laugh at how pathetically I'm crying and call me a fucking pussy for even having the nerve to break down. Say I'm ungrateful and never go out of my way to help them or the baby- I told my councilor once about it, she just told me I shouldn't worry about it if I knew I did do something, she can kiss my ass to. All of them can. My father, my mother, the children who terrorized me in elementary and middle school, and those currently in highschool, the bitches who whisper behind my back when I busted my ass to make sure I was a good friend, my grandmother, the councilors who looked at me like I was crazy, my ex best friend who once told me to kill myself, the girls who jumped me, the boys who objectify my fucking body every time I want a relationship for love, and many more I cant currently think of.
I want a hard shell, so that when I see them all I can stare them in their face and no longer be afraid of the consequences that comes with it- not worry about what it's like to run away and instead do everything for myself or to tell all the adults to lick out my vagina. With a hard shell I won't have to feel bad when they hang certain things above my head, like when they pay for my hair or give me a couple new clothes because I can guarantee if the truth came out to my grandparents they would fall in despair- not that they would believe me but I would believe me and I know would know that what happened to me wasnt right.
Like when my mother got her first apartment and moved out of her parents house and brought a man not even 3 months in. I would tell myself that her having sex every night on my school night without even trying to stay quiet wasnt right, that the way they would fight In front of me wasnt right, how when we got the new apartment-like- house it wasnt right she brought a new boyfriend, than a new boyfriend, than another man to her room while she was still seeing the boyfriend, and I would know she was still with him because I would see him the next day. The way she cried out for them every night and I tried to sleep through it, I know now that it probably was right to tell my father about it even if he didnt do shit to help but kidnap me. She plays a role in front of her parents that shes such a hard working mom and I cant deny some of the shit she does is hard working but I ignore it when she yells at me like this. The screaming and arguing drowns out the good and suddenly all the shit I've saw in my life time comes crashing down. The way my parents fought, my father abusing my mother mentally and physically, always being in the middle of it, seeing my father's mother try to stab everyone, the way she always sent me back and only taking me away when I was crying because my father was now yelling at me. The anxiety and social disorder I caught from these years of not talking to any other kids through these years, from being nervous around my father's family, from being near the violence and horror, from being to scared to actually talk to my mother because shes constantly judging me. She constantly judging me for crying, for feeling, for having panic attacks. She yelled at me recently for not being able to look a cashier in the eyes and getting nervous very easily. She gave me a disgusted look when I told her I wanted to cry for no reason. She once pushed me away when I was little for hugging her and crying because I had a nightmare that everyone died before me. No one in the family cared that that dream fucked me over- just told me that it was just a dream.
And I know the reason why they treat me this way, I was unwanted from the start. I was a accidental birthday sex baby, I counted back the months and my due date happened to be the 25. How funny her birthday is March 25. I cant tell whether it was by rape or reckless sexual desire. I found a condom in her room once but that doesnt prove anything. She was 20-19, so maybe she was as stupid as she is now. A part of me cares but the other doesnt wanna know, because if my suspicions are correct than I truly wasnt wanted- she probably wanted to abort me- my grandmother told me she never knew about me until the last minute. But honestly I think she was being a fucking fool, she had josh about a year ago so whose to say I wasnt the same. But dont ever get it twisted I'd kill to have josh born again if he was taken from me. I'd happily murder to make sure josh doesnt end up like me, anger issues, anti socialism, anxiety, and depression and all.
You might be wondering what pushed me to write this right now and its because they said it again but a teen of my year can only handle so much. The reminder that " they dont need to feed me their food " or " they dont need to give me half the things you do " or that special one time my mother threaten to kick me out of the house. She probably thinks I dont remember no I do, I remember how eager you said it, like you were itching to get out for so long and how silent you went because you didnt mean to say it. I remember how you kissed josh every time I made you mad to remind me I'm the lesser loved child. I'm the child you want gone, you wanna try again with the fucking baby, with the true love of my life Joshua, the looks you give after kissing him and the way I really thought about dying at those moment but I'm to scare of fucking dying to try it- because what if there's no such thing as reincarnation, or heaven, what if it's just nothing. Even if I'm not even aware of the nothing I'm going to be thinking about it the final moments kf my breath. Every emotion I feel up to it. I only ask I won't see my life flash before my eyes because my heart will collapse the moment I see my childhood because of the stress these few years have given me. I haven't even reached a quarter of my life and I'm thinking so heavily of what death would be like, even if I'm heavy afraid of it, maybe because my body truly wants to die.
Fuck everything's shes done for me, getting me into this private school is indeed a blessing, giving me a brother is indeed a blessing, the clothes are a nice touch and the few 24 hours your extremely nice to me on my birthday but I just hope you know that every moment your screaming at me, yelling at me, degrading me that's all forgotten- and all the shit you put me through remains.
Yeah one day I'm going to head to oxford. I'm going to be a stuck up little princess that you call me everyday, and talk like I'm a rich snob who only sees money and how to use people. I'm going to be so insanely smart that even you will wonder how that happen. I'm going to be on this years student council and I'm going to demand to be president. And if I dont get it than next time and I'll be sure to be a amazing student. I'll be smarter than the other student I call my best friend. I'll have straight a's and I'll beat her. I'll beat her ass so well she won't understand what the hell happened. I'll go to a 3 year college than apply for oxford. I'll leave this country for a moment and indulge in other cultures. I'll have the dog you refused to give me and the cat you made me give away. I'll either have a wife or a husband, and theyll love me and fuck me like I'm the most special person in the world- children are still a question in my head. I'll be so happy in life that you'll cry at seeing my face all over the news. I'll dedicate my life to be better than yours and no one in this world is ever going to make me feel like I cant do it again. You'll have to bury me 6ft under with my hands and feet In metal to stop me. You just watch this. I'll be the happiest bitch in the fucking world.
Signed.
I dont know what to call myself.
I'll call myself by the character I created in my image.
Creator.
YOU ARE READING
My Rawest Emotion On A Single Blank Piece Of Paper
Non-FictionSometimes my anger reaches a level that shouldn't be obtainable. It climbs and scratches it's way to the top, and explodes any emotion I've kept hidden to whoever pushed me over the edge. Writing was my tool to keep it going down, to stop the black...
