I grew up without father nor mother. In a broken down house, where drugs came first. Before the bills, before food, before me. I always wanted to be loved, to have a family, like on TV. Where everyone smiled, everyone laughed, where things were joyful.
I always remember being a little off, different from the other kids. I sought after love though attention, always being the comedian, or through sexuality. My god sister and I were similar. We both shared our issues. We played games, acting out our little twisted fantasies. We never got the love or the attention we craved as most children do. We were lonely, confused, and lost in our heads. We grew up as sisters. My mother often ditched me at her place for days or months.
As I aged, I grew more strange. I separated myself from other children, since they rejected me anyways. I was always explicit. I was often hateful. I didn't mean to be but it just came out. I was always bullied by other children and adults. It was normal for me, I just took it, and had a tendency to be called submissive or troubled. My clothes never fit because I either outgrew them or they were much too big. My mom's excuse was that I was continuously having growth spurts.
By fifth grade I took up smoking, like my parents, and began popping pills in sixth. At age eleven I began self-mutilating on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. I stayed in my room all day drawing or listening to the radio with my TV on. The TV made me feel like I had company, with the talking in the background, since my parents were often too busy getting high and I was ostracized from having friends. At the age of twelve I was 5'5 and weighed seventy pounds at my worst, because I refused to eat and continued to abuse drugs. Often at times found myself hurling up stomach acid because I the rules were not to eat. I occasionally self-mutilated at earlier ages by hitting my head or biting myself, but I never really understood what it was until I was about twelve. By the end of the school year I was so weak I was unable to walk and often passed out at random. My mom after fighting with my step-dad repeatedly took me to the doctors, where they said I was dehydrated. I begged the doctor while standing on the scale not to mention my weight to my mom. And thank God she didn't.
I hated myself, and promised myself to stop popping pills after I saw what the they were doing. I still had trouble with my weight, and my growth was stunted from the malnourishment. The cutting and such never stopped though. At thirteen I started dating a sixteen year old boy, who was a total ass. He often hit me and cussed me out since I refused to have any sexual contact with him. Once or twice I tried explaining to him my reasons and what was happening at home. But I never was able to spit it out. I wanted to call the cops on my parents so I could get out of there, but I never had the guts.
Meanwhile ever since ten my step-dad did things to me. And I tried to tell Mama, but she told me to go away, because she was tired and she didn't give a fuck. The next night we went out to Charlie's Pizza, and I was so excited because we NEVER went out. Next thing I knew my step dad was cussing me out calling me a lying brat and a whore. Mama told him, she fucking betrayed me. I hated her so much. I trusted her.
Things escalated from there. At home, with me, with everything. Suicide was a friend that I could trust. It was my only way out. And the attempts were common but secret. They never worked out, which made me even more determined. We ran away from my step dad when I was fourteen, two weeks before I turned fifteen. By then I was sleeping in my mom's room because he came in my room at night. It wasn't just the kitchen anymore. No where was safe.
That December I had a meltdown and was taken to a mental hospital. I tried to tell them everything and my mom put on a crying show for the staff. Later on told me I was a liar, and that I was crazy.
Since then I've had many run ins with the wrong kind of people, and am on heavy medication. I've been pregnant twice, and lost both of my children. I still battle my anorexia and my bulimia, along with my diagnosed mental disorders. I've spent quite a few years in and out of the hospital. Changing medications when my body develops a tolerance to the old ones. I'm still gaining labels from the doctors and continue with therapy to this day. I've been labeled with PTSD, Schizoaffective disorder bipolar type, BPD (BS diagnosis which I don't have), ADD, and the shit keeps piling. I recently found out that I have fluid on the brain and a seizure disorder which my mother has been hiding from me. Which I haven't been receiving treatment for. Thanks to my mother.
My life keeps cycling through the same shit. I'm still lonely. Which never fails to to lead to shitty decisions on my part. My prognosis is grim. I'll never be able to have a job, a family, be stable, or have lasting relationships with people. So I'm pretty much damned to be forever alone and a failure until I finally get lucky with one of my attempts... I'll die alone... I keep hurting myself, still have relapses with my eating disorders, still have panic attacks, the insomnia is relentless, and am shunned by most people for my past and my disorders. Not to mention how scarred my body is. I mean c'mon guys who wants damaged goods? I'm not even sure I know how to love... Maybe if I was different, people would like me? My mom would like me perhaps? Those guys wouldn't have done all that shit? He wouldn't have died?! But it's all my bloody fault! Isn't it?!
I just want to be loved. That's all I want. For someone to love and accept me. But I never get that! I just get fucked! Whether I want it or not! Then they leave me! It's not fucking fair! Goddamnit! I hate sleeping alone at night! I hate being alone! So far the only thing I've got to look forward to is the next time I get to see him! I want someone to be there for me! No one understands! No one wants me! I try so damn hard... And I go unnoticed! No matter what I do it isn't good enough for anyone! I'm alone! I need a friend! Please!
He's so wonderful... He's fucking awesome. I'll see him soon I know. As long as I can, I'll do my best to make him happy. He's kick ass man. I'm lucky to have him around. And I'm glad he came around the other day. I'll see him again soon...
Sorry for ranting guys,
superanimay
