I give it up to her all the time. But fuck this. She has no heart. She can’t even stand to hear me talk. She leaves the room, yells things while I’m downstairs and I ask her about it. She denies her explicit words! Okay. This time, too? Again. Them (those I am adopted by)are so self-righteous it’s ridiculous. I would never a day in my life treat my daughter or son the way my “parents” treat me. And yeah, right now, I’m in there house. Basically a prisoner. I mostly keep to myself, but I was talking about jobs. Trying desperately to amuse them.
And then they obviously don’t want me around for the holidays. They think I’m some kinda retard or something? I know one thing and that is I know people. I’ve studied them my whole life. Never had much to do with them tho, except when forced to. And that’s how they want it. I have few memories with them. I personally asked the father figure to be my friend at age 12 when my own peers rejected me because of the way I looked. My father figure complied with my request, but I was a boy to him. He introduced me to basketball. It had it’s good things, but in the end, I threw it all away because I was sent to basketball camp everyday of my life. Either at the hoop behind my house, on the track – dribbling two balls at once, running, perfecting free throws – or at real camps. My summer was filled with camp after camp and I in many ways loved it or at least it occupied my time and I did become rather skilled quickly. However, I felt like I was a son instead of a daughter and I became frustrated at not living like a girl. I expressed this to them and they showed their disappointment and continued to go to camps. They were pretty grueling and no amount of pain was warranted any compassion from them. For example, I played with twisted ankles and feet that had to be held together with duck tape. I still beat everyone down the court tho. Did I really like this? I mean this was my life and I became ridicouled for it. I was called a lesbian, a dyke, butch and many more derogatory terms. It broke my heart. But we didn’t talk about emotions in my “family.” One day I said, “I’m depressed to myself.” I told my mother figure this and asked to stay home from school. She reluctantly let me. It was the beginning of a downward turn, or rather a turning against myself that I still can’t shake.
I became anorexic so I could be pure. I liked going to bed feeling my bony knees rubbing together and the empty stomach was what drove me to continue starving myself. People say that it is about attempting to regain control over a life that is, to you, out of control. I can agree with this to some degree. Everyone noticed the weight loss. Everyone, but me. I never thought I was skinny or on the path to dying. I read about anorexia and I wasn’t that bad I thought.
It’s not complaining. It’s the truth. I really don’t care what they think of me – those so-called pals. Same goes for those two who gave me life and I don’t think they know what to do as parents. They certainly cannot handle any emotion of any sort. No anger, sadness, happiness, nothing. It’s never good enough. And you know what? They would have done did themselves in by now if they were me. I shouldn’t be alive. Not because I don’t want to be, it’s just I’ve come seconds away from death so many times. The physical and mental pain I’ve endured is unmatched by anyone as far as I see it. And I know lots of people. I know people.
I’ve been starting to think that time is up for them. The time of being the one to say sorry is over! I’m fucking not sorry for anything at all. I know all my faults and I deal with them every night, Oh for sure. I’m so depeleted of even giving a shit anymore about humanity. It’s just not a world that I want to witness day in and day out, So I shut out most of it. I reblogged transmigration or reincarnation because I wansn’t meant for this time. I’m so much different than everyone it’s not even funny. No lie. And these people talk about having expectations and that being a bad thing. Oh, no, my friend, you got it twisted. This whole world is twisted. It drags you down. It will. It’ll take your soul and eat it.
That’s why I shouldn’t have expectations? Maybe if we did, we experience something a little better than this! Who can tell me we’re living in the best of times? Everything is a mess. And who is truly responsible. I say it. Sometimes, like the whole transmigration/reincarnation thing, which I know nothing of, but this might be hell. Maybe we’ve all done something wrong in our past that has put us here. Call it pergatory if you want. There is so much suffering, it’s inescapable. And I personally feel for everyone in pain and misery. And I love it when it seems that someone isn’t bad off. That somehow they’ve made their life peaceful and can think in the abstract about what really is going on in this world. I live in the outskirts of the most dangerous city in the US. And a random bullet killing someone, I don’t know happens probably at least three times a day in the inner city.
There’s not much more to say. This was all perpetuated by my so-called mother and to some degree, my father. But he is in his own world. He’s never, admittedly, asked for God’s help once in his lifetime of 71 years. I call to God every single night and beg for his mercy. And sometimes I don’t think I deserve it. I call institutionalization. And it started with THEM two. NO emotions, good to go. I was the peacemaker in the house. And know this is the return I get. When my only concern was their happiness. To see them proud of me for achievement after achievement. I’m done. I’ve said it so many times, but how long can a person tolerate the intolerable.
It hurts me deeply as you can imagine. They’ve made me question myself before anyone else did. Sister included. I could go on for a long time about her. She really is something. She did gift me her 1999 Jeep Cherokee tho. But they took that, too. A gift. Taken. I some shook up I think I should stop writing. And that’s all there is.