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This is a glimpse into my life. It's harsh and not fun, so don't read on if that might bother you.
I should never ever speak to my mother. She treats me like shit. Ever since my parents got a divorce when I was four, she's verbally and psychologically abused me. I guess maybe it's because she views me as a reminder of my father, the lying adulterer who never paid child support on time, who ran away from every problem he had. She says I'm just like him, but she's wrong. My mother just hates that I'm a better person, a nicer person, than she'll ever be. After the divorce, she never wanted to touch me anymore. If I even brushed against her in a hallway, she'd cringe or push me away. I think I remember her hugging me twice, but that was just for appearances because other people were around (once was when I was leaving for Europe and she wanted to look good in front of the other parents and the other was at my great-grandmother's funeral). It really has damaged me, her detached nature. Ask any of my friends and they'll tell you I touch and hug them constantly. I think it's just another level of the psychological torment my mother has inflicted on me. At my eighth grade awards night, I got more awards than anyone else, and I was ranked third in my class (the grades were only seperated by tenths of a point: 98.7, 98.6, and mine was 98.5). Well, after the ceremony other parents were walking up to me and telling me what a wonderful job I had done and saying to my mother, "Oh you must be so proud." My mother would smile and say that she was very proud, but the second the other parents were away she grabbed my arm, leaving a bruise, and hissed at me, "You've really done it now! You'll never amount to anything! You're so stupid! Third place!? You might as well quit school and go to work at the factory with all the other retards! You don't even care! All you care about is that stupid little art award! It's nothing!" I started bawling in the gym; people turned around and stared and my mother just was infuriated. She hates seeing me cry because I think it reminds her that she used to have a heart. God, I can still hear her in my head that night. I couldn't stop crying. People thought I was crying because I was happy. Happy, for Christ's sake! I can't remember the last time I was actually happy. Then my high school awards night, I got a lot of awards more than most people except for maybe two or three other people (who are cheerleaders and class presidents who get awards made up for them so that they get more). All my mother could say on the way home was, "You should have gotten more! You should have gotten the [insert random class name here] award!" and I had to tell her, "Mom, I wasn't even in that class." It didn't matter to her. The world has cheated her if I don't win ever single thing. It doesn't matter how many first places I get; it's that one second or third place that shapes her view of me. I got Historian of my high school class (third place again), but this time I was beat by a worthy person... and a not so worthy person. I was behind the Salutatorian (spelling? yeah, I'm doing real well right now) by a meer .13 of a point, and he was one of my best friends (not that I didn't try to beat him, but we were all trying to beat someone). I felt vindicated that I beat my arch-nemesis after four years of trying. She cursed my name and cried when she found out I got Historian. Well, screw her; she can just work at the baseball park for the rest of her days and die for all I care. Anyways, I was kinda happy, but not truly happy. Same thing happened all over again. Mom told me how stupid I must be (out of a class of 172 people, I was third) to be so low in the rankings. I got accepted to an ivy-league school for crying out loud! I completed five college courses before I finished high school! She wishes I were a doctor, although I hate blood and dealing with death. She wishes I were a lawyer... and she knows I could never lie to people like that. She hates that I'm an artist. She's never complimented anything I've ever done. She always had some derogitory statement to make about everything I ever did, so I stopped showing her my latest works and she called me lazy and a loser. I guess I am a loser. I hate my life. I can't wait to leave this damn town which will be in another month and four days. I want to go where I don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing to an overly conservative, racist hillbilly bigot. I'm proud that I'm a straight person who supports the rights of gay people. I'm proud that I don't hit stray animals with my car just because I can. I'm proud that I'm still a virgin.<P>
I think I've cried all I could last night. She said to me something I couldn't believe. She said, "One day you're going to pay for how you've treated me!" I almost started laughing because that's what my grandmother would tell me about my mother. My grandmother told me not to cry and that, "One day your mother is going to have to answer to God for what she's done to you, and she'll pay for it." My mom only wants me to have a good job and lots of money so she'll feel vindicated that her life wasn't so worthless. It's only worthless because she made it that way. She wants me to work so I can buy HER a car, buy HER a house. I OWE HER. Fuck that.<P>
She wanted me to be thin so I could get a rich husband and stay in this death trap of a town to support her. She actually fucking told me to get anorexic or bulimic! She told that's it's better to be anorexic than fat. I told her to go get cancer, and then we'll talk. She always would give me these looks like she's going to hit me, but she's only ever hit me once I think. She knows better than to pull that shit now 'cause I'll fucking hit her back. She thinks she can get away with everything 'cause she works for the state, get this, in the children services. She loves everyone else's kids but her own. I've been waiting for the day she'll have my cousin Celisa's demons move into the house into my old room. She'll do it eventually because she can't stand to be alone. She told me no one would ever love me because I'm fat and unpleasant and too loud. That's probably the reason she's abused me the way she did; she thought I'd stay with her because I was too afraid to leave. Well, I did leave, didn't I! I am afraid, afraid of a lot of things, but nothing would keep me in this town. Well, I've had guys in high school who wanted to fuck me, plenty of them who told me they would like to because I wasn't stupid or vapid like the other girls. I never fucked them, but hey, they wanted me. Sure, those guys were man-whores, but who cares? I didn't sleep with them so the story kinda ends there. <P>
In no way do I think I've had a good life. I've had it bad, but not as bad as some people. Sometimes I wish she had hit me 'cause physical scars heal, but the emotional ones never do. She's made me afraid to live. I tried to kill myself once. It was my freshman year of high school. I was going to break a piece of glass out of a mirror and slit my wrists, but then I felt okay, like peace, like a warmth came over me and I didn't want to die anymore. I think it was a sign from God or some higher power; I'd give anything to feel that peace again. I've prayed and prayed but it won't come back. Maybe I'm so busy ranting to God that S/He isn't getting through. I have no idea. I don't understand theology, a lot of it doesn't make sense, but I know that there has to be something out there. Because if there really is just nothingness and meaningless, then I will be royally pissed off.<P>
I hope to be happy in my move to New York. I hope I met new people, and that I finally learn how to live. I want to be happy because I can't go on like this. I'm sorry for being so morose and I don't want to make anyone sad, but I have to get these feelings out. I know some of my "real life" friends will read this, and what I have to say to them is that these are things that I couldn't tell you in speaking. When I'm with you (Laura, Clint, Tara) in the world, things are better. You guys have my whole world worth it; you have let me escape for a few hours. I don't know what I would have done if I had never met you guys. Please don't think me weak or incapable because of reading this. I'm not a strong person, and everyone has there breaking points and mine have been pushed and pushed until they snap in a moment now. I live in a fantasy. I go through the day pretending I'm just a character, making up a plot, thinking of how I would write the scenes. Sometimes I'm not even myself. I have to do this just to get by. It's times like now and when I'm about to go to sleep that the world comes crashing into reality and I realize how pathetic I am for living this way. I have to pretend that someone else is with me. I hold my own hand and pretend someone is there. I rub my own shoulders and make believe that someone is trying to comfort me. It's all I have. I've had these breakdowns in stores, school, everywhere. I realize that I'm not playing a part, and these things are really happening and I can't take it anymore. I just need to be away, away from my family and this town and sometimes the whole fucking world. I need to learn to be who I really am because at this point, I don't even know.
I should never ever speak to my mother. She treats me like shit. Ever since my parents got a divorce when I was four, she's verbally and psychologically abused me. I guess maybe it's because she views me as a reminder of my father, the lying adulterer who never paid child support on time, who ran away from every problem he had. She says I'm just like him, but she's wrong. My mother just hates that I'm a better person, a nicer person, than she'll ever be. After the divorce, she never wanted to touch me anymore. If I even brushed against her in a hallway, she'd cringe or push me away. I think I remember her hugging me twice, but that was just for appearances because other people were around (once was when I was leaving for Europe and she wanted to look good in front of the other parents and the other was at my great-grandmother's funeral). It really has damaged me, her detached nature. Ask any of my friends and they'll tell you I touch and hug them constantly. I think it's just another level of the psychological torment my mother has inflicted on me. At my eighth grade awards night, I got more awards than anyone else, and I was ranked third in my class (the grades were only seperated by tenths of a point: 98.7, 98.6, and mine was 98.5). Well, after the ceremony other parents were walking up to me and telling me what a wonderful job I had done and saying to my mother, "Oh you must be so proud." My mother would smile and say that she was very proud, but the second the other parents were away she grabbed my arm, leaving a bruise, and hissed at me, "You've really done it now! You'll never amount to anything! You're so stupid! Third place!? You might as well quit school and go to work at the factory with all the other retards! You don't even care! All you care about is that stupid little art award! It's nothing!" I started bawling in the gym; people turned around and stared and my mother just was infuriated. She hates seeing me cry because I think it reminds her that she used to have a heart. God, I can still hear her in my head that night. I couldn't stop crying. People thought I was crying because I was happy. Happy, for Christ's sake! I can't remember the last time I was actually happy. Then my high school awards night, I got a lot of awards more than most people except for maybe two or three other people (who are cheerleaders and class presidents who get awards made up for them so that they get more). All my mother could say on the way home was, "You should have gotten more! You should have gotten the [insert random class name here] award!" and I had to tell her, "Mom, I wasn't even in that class." It didn't matter to her. The world has cheated her if I don't win ever single thing. It doesn't matter how many first places I get; it's that one second or third place that shapes her view of me. I got Historian of my high school class (third place again), but this time I was beat by a worthy person... and a not so worthy person. I was behind the Salutatorian (spelling? yeah, I'm doing real well right now) by a meer .13 of a point, and he was one of my best friends (not that I didn't try to beat him, but we were all trying to beat someone). I felt vindicated that I beat my arch-nemesis after four years of trying. She cursed my name and cried when she found out I got Historian. Well, screw her; she can just work at the baseball park for the rest of her days and die for all I care. Anyways, I was kinda happy, but not truly happy. Same thing happened all over again. Mom told me how stupid I must be (out of a class of 172 people, I was third) to be so low in the rankings. I got accepted to an ivy-league school for crying out loud! I completed five college courses before I finished high school! She wishes I were a doctor, although I hate blood and dealing with death. She wishes I were a lawyer... and she knows I could never lie to people like that. She hates that I'm an artist. She's never complimented anything I've ever done. She always had some derogitory statement to make about everything I ever did, so I stopped showing her my latest works and she called me lazy and a loser. I guess I am a loser. I hate my life. I can't wait to leave this damn town which will be in another month and four days. I want to go where I don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing to an overly conservative, racist hillbilly bigot. I'm proud that I'm a straight person who supports the rights of gay people. I'm proud that I don't hit stray animals with my car just because I can. I'm proud that I'm still a virgin.<P>
I think I've cried all I could last night. She said to me something I couldn't believe. She said, "One day you're going to pay for how you've treated me!" I almost started laughing because that's what my grandmother would tell me about my mother. My grandmother told me not to cry and that, "One day your mother is going to have to answer to God for what she's done to you, and she'll pay for it." My mom only wants me to have a good job and lots of money so she'll feel vindicated that her life wasn't so worthless. It's only worthless because she made it that way. She wants me to work so I can buy HER a car, buy HER a house. I OWE HER. Fuck that.<P>
She wanted me to be thin so I could get a rich husband and stay in this death trap of a town to support her. She actually fucking told me to get anorexic or bulimic! She told that's it's better to be anorexic than fat. I told her to go get cancer, and then we'll talk. She always would give me these looks like she's going to hit me, but she's only ever hit me once I think. She knows better than to pull that shit now 'cause I'll fucking hit her back. She thinks she can get away with everything 'cause she works for the state, get this, in the children services. She loves everyone else's kids but her own. I've been waiting for the day she'll have my cousin Celisa's demons move into the house into my old room. She'll do it eventually because she can't stand to be alone. She told me no one would ever love me because I'm fat and unpleasant and too loud. That's probably the reason she's abused me the way she did; she thought I'd stay with her because I was too afraid to leave. Well, I did leave, didn't I! I am afraid, afraid of a lot of things, but nothing would keep me in this town. Well, I've had guys in high school who wanted to fuck me, plenty of them who told me they would like to because I wasn't stupid or vapid like the other girls. I never fucked them, but hey, they wanted me. Sure, those guys were man-whores, but who cares? I didn't sleep with them so the story kinda ends there. <P>
In no way do I think I've had a good life. I've had it bad, but not as bad as some people. Sometimes I wish she had hit me 'cause physical scars heal, but the emotional ones never do. She's made me afraid to live. I tried to kill myself once. It was my freshman year of high school. I was going to break a piece of glass out of a mirror and slit my wrists, but then I felt okay, like peace, like a warmth came over me and I didn't want to die anymore. I think it was a sign from God or some higher power; I'd give anything to feel that peace again. I've prayed and prayed but it won't come back. Maybe I'm so busy ranting to God that S/He isn't getting through. I have no idea. I don't understand theology, a lot of it doesn't make sense, but I know that there has to be something out there. Because if there really is just nothingness and meaningless, then I will be royally pissed off.<P>
I hope to be happy in my move to New York. I hope I met new people, and that I finally learn how to live. I want to be happy because I can't go on like this. I'm sorry for being so morose and I don't want to make anyone sad, but I have to get these feelings out. I know some of my "real life" friends will read this, and what I have to say to them is that these are things that I couldn't tell you in speaking. When I'm with you (Laura, Clint, Tara) in the world, things are better. You guys have my whole world worth it; you have let me escape for a few hours. I don't know what I would have done if I had never met you guys. Please don't think me weak or incapable because of reading this. I'm not a strong person, and everyone has there breaking points and mine have been pushed and pushed until they snap in a moment now. I live in a fantasy. I go through the day pretending I'm just a character, making up a plot, thinking of how I would write the scenes. Sometimes I'm not even myself. I have to do this just to get by. It's times like now and when I'm about to go to sleep that the world comes crashing into reality and I realize how pathetic I am for living this way. I have to pretend that someone else is with me. I hold my own hand and pretend someone is there. I rub my own shoulders and make believe that someone is trying to comfort me. It's all I have. I've had these breakdowns in stores, school, everywhere. I realize that I'm not playing a part, and these things are really happening and I can't take it anymore. I just need to be away, away from my family and this town and sometimes the whole fucking world. I need to learn to be who I really am because at this point, I don't even know.