Bury Me Before I Start To Smell.

For twenty-two years I've been speaking. No one has listened. For twenty-two years I've been forced to endure and endure and endure, never allowed to express my anger, or sadness, or hurt. People have been allowed to scratch me, and punch me, and throw things at me. And nobody has stopped them.

And not only that, but the perpetrator of my abuse has been allowed to debase me constantly to others, to such a degree that people have had the nerve to reprimand ME for "maltreating" THEM. Nobody has defended me, or spoken up for me, or attempted to restore my name.

Maybe my time is over. Maybe this twenty second year is special. Maybe twenty-two is where my story ends.

Maybe it will be less complicated without me. They can keep pretending that you're a good person, and I won't be around to tell them otherwise.

I should stop expecting you to save me. I have a picture in my mind sometimes, of me slashing my wrists, and you showing up just in time. But you've never done that. You've never saved me. Never protected me. Why would you change now??

You won't. None of you will. Days will go by, while I slowly bleed my life away and go cold in bed. Someone will call me. Try to shake my shoulder. I won't move, they'll call for help. How could you not know, they'll ask? You'll make your excuses, all the while knowing that they're not true.

And I'll be gone.

I hope you miss me. I hope you regret ignoring me when you should have listened. You chose who was most important to you. I hope you'll be happy with her.

And I hope you never have another child. You were lucky with me. You won't be again.

You assholes had better remember that I wanted to be cremated.

Are There Pills For This?

Lately, I feel very restless and uncomfortable all time. I feel kind of like I'm standing on constantly shifting, uneven ground, and I'm getting motion sickness. I also feel like silk netting is the only thing holding my sanity together, and it's being stretched to it's limit, two seconds from giving out.

I need a nap. 

Love and Stupidity

I remember (like a million and a half years ago) reading this manga called Maison Ikkoku. After like, three years of writing it, you could totally tell that the author (Rumiko Takahashi) was sick to death of complicating the lives of her characters, so near the end of the story there's this part where the main female character figuratively throws up her hands and is just like "Fuck it! I don't know what the hell else to do! I don't know how to fix whatever's wrong with us, so screw the sentimental shit, let's just have sex!"

Yeah, she didn't really say that....At all. But that's how interpreted it.

Anyway, I just wish life was as simple as just throwing up your hands, and being like, I give up, it'll all work out somehow. But it just keeps on coming doesn't it? No matter how simple you make your life, there will always be some douchebag to come along and complicate things. Those are the times when I wish I was the only person in the world. Everybody else is just interrupting my peace and getting in my way. I doubt I would even get lonely.

The point that I'm trying to make with this random half-assed post, is that there are only certain parts of your life that you can work on, everything else just has to work itself out. Emotions make things complicated, people make things complicated, and unfortunately human beings lack the ability switch our emotions on and off at will (when are going to evolve THAT trait, huh??).

In other words: I hate us, life sucks, and I'm shutting everything down (feelings and everything associated with them) until I've got everything I want sorted out.  Holy shit, I'm going to be a virgin for a long fucking time. Meh, I'm probably not missing much.

Letter From a Furiously Distraught Daughter

Dear Mother,

I am sometimes shocked by how utterly selfish you are. You force me to live with a woman who abuses me, disrespects me, and generally makes me feel bad about myself for twenty years, simply because of your own tired cultural ideas of sticking by family. You are never even around to experience it to the same level I do because you are at work during the day. You don't allow me to vent about my feelings when it's necessary, yet whenever YOU get upset with her, you yell at me, or blame me for it, and I'm expected to deal with it. 

Not only do you allow your mother to get away with all this, but you allow her to tell other people how "disrespectful" I am to her, even to the point where our family members feel the need to constantly confront me about my supposed behaviour towards her. When the reality is that if I am home when she is, I stay inside my room, to the point of starving myself for days at a time to avoid having to listen to her scream at me!

After all of this, you have the NERVE to try and force me to do things for her, when all of this is YOUR FAULT in the first place, just like everything else, you try and make me feel GUILTY for not wanting to take whatever treatment your ABUSIVE SADISTIC TYRANT OF A MOTHER decides to dish out!

I hate both of you. The fact that I'm related to either of you makes me want to swallow gasoline and scorch myself from the inside out until there's nothing left.

Sincerely, 

That Thing You Should Have Aborted.

Craziness

Crazy Thing 1: When I was in sixth grade, one of my friends told me that she saw an episode of Dr. Phil that recommended snapping an elastic band on your wrist to help yourself stop swearing. Now, 20 years old, and thinking that I needed to get over someone ASAP, I got an elastic band (one of those huge ones they use for produce at grocery stores) and every single time I entertain a romantic thought about him, I snap it. HARD.

Crazy Thing 2: IT'S ACTUALLY WORKING.

Mama...

Before what remains of you is gone forever, I want you to know how much you meant to all of us. From the moment I met you, when I was fourteen, you became a constant in my life, and I was closer to you than I was to my own grand-mother.

As much grief as I felt when I found out that you'd died, I know that it's nothing in comparison to what your family must have felt. The ties of blood are weak ones in comparison to the bonds built between people who spend their entire lives taking care of each other, and to have those bonds broken so suddenly must have been devastating.

I hope that you'll forgive me for not having been to see you for three weeks before you died, and I hope that one day I can grow up to be as amazing a mother (and grandmother) as you've been.

If all the good deeds that we do in life are reflected back on us at it's end, I know that there's no way that, wherever you are, you aren't happy right now.

We love you, mama, and we'll miss you.