Why is That?
What do you want from me?
You order me to do things on a whim, then get angry when I ask why.
I'm not even trying anymore. I'm never good enough for you. And I'll never be. So there's no point in making an effort. I've been making an effort my whole life. Nothing's changed.
But of course, you get mad at me for doing that too.
I'm trapped in a mental and emotional torture chamber. Why do you do this to me? What terrible, unspeakable thing have I done to deserve this from you?
You make it clear you want no part of me, that I'm not what you wanted and I never will be. So I try to stay out of your life. And you pull me back in just to torture me more. I can't escape. You won't let me. Why?
Is it because I was born to you and now you're forever stuck knowing that you created this monster?
You find out that I hurt myself, you've seen the scars now, and you blow it off like it's nothing. It surprised me a bit that all you said was a careless "please don't do that," and then acted like it never happened. How can a parent be so uncaring about their own kid?
Maybe one day I'll tell you about how you've make me want to commit suicide a few times. But you'd just blame me for it. You said you had nothing to do with my self mutilation. But considering the only time I hate myself enough to do it is right after you attack me, I believe your statement is incorrect.
I can't tell anyone, cuz you'll try to convince them that you have nothing to do with it, even though it's all because of you.
On my internship I got a lot better. I was happier. I didn't have to worry about waking up to you yelling at me and then not escaping until bedtime the next night. I didn't have to have your permission to do things I should be able to do anyway, like eat, sleep, take showers, go outside. You couldn't control me.
But now I'm back. You must feel like you need to make up for lost time or something.
You make me feel like a monster. A freak show that deserves no love, no acceptance, no good. I'm a worthless beast that can only be used for work and as an emotional punching bag, and I can only be exposed to hatred, suffering, misery, hopelessness, and lies.
And if I rebel, or even disagree with something you said, you turn into a poisonous snake and slither away to tell dad about how awful I am, and how you're the victim of my evil. How dare I not mindlessly serve you?
You know it'll work because you know he has a severe temper, and it's ridiculously easy to set that temper off. So you manipulate his thinking and send him after me to destroy me. Then you stare at me, with a look in your eyes that shows you know you've won.
As if you weren't bad enough. Dad is another situation entirely.
The only reason I haven't told him off yet is because I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to beat me up one day. He practiced martial arts and is an 82nd airborne division veteran. He has the potential to kill me.
And what I were to make him so angry that he decided that that was a good idea? Or what if I got away somehow and he decided to take it out on one of my siblings instead?
I'm trapped. I've been looking for a way out for years. But you thwart every attempt.
I still have to work a year and then I can go to college. A year with you two..... I've survived almost nineteen years with you now. I'll have to pray that I can survive one more. Then I guess I'll see you during summer vacation. Then I'll graduate. And I'm moving somewhere away from you both. Maybe I'll be smart and not let you find out where I'm going. And then, with any luck, I'll almost never have to deal with you again.
Maybe I can have a real life then. With friends who I can talk to and invite over without having to worry about you scaring them off or judging them because they're not like you either. Maybe someday I'll find someone who actually cares about me. With so many people in the world, there has to be someone, right?
And I don't mean fake caring, or caring cuz "we hang out so I guess that means we're friends." I mean real caring, no matter what caring.
Maybe one day I'll even find someone who loves me. Wouldn't that be something.
If real love exists, that is. I'm starting to doubt.
Real love isn't pity. Pity fades eventually. Love doesn't fade.
I love everyone else. I want to find good in everyone (though it's hard to find it in my parents. I've tried time and time again, and I'm sure there's something. But it's hiding really well or something). I'm there for people, no matter what. I care. I love.
I just don't get love back is all.
Why is that?