So much has happened in so little time. Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy. Everything is just piling up on top of me and I’m suffocating. Had midterms this week, I started sobbing and hyperventilating in my mom’s car and she called my therapist (while I begged her not to), my old GAL died and I miss him so much, I went to his wake and cried in front of people I didn’t know, I met his family and they cried too when they heard he was my guardian, I cried some more for the rest of the ride home, I got physically sick on the second day of exams and I laid in a fetal position on my bathroom floor for a half an hour waiting to just get sick already, I finished my midterms and my Spanish grade went down and I now have my first C as a final grade ever, I saw my therapist and my mom told her how I panicked in her car and about my GAL dying and I cried again, my therapist now wants to see me every two weeks instead of monthly, my dad is still a horrible human being, and I still have to deal with him and all of his emailing junk, I’ve been fighting with my brother, I got really frustrated and sobbed on my kitchen floor by myself, and throughout all of this I have not hurt myself and I have not talked to anybody about anything that’s happening because I don’t like crying in front of people. I’m ready to drop dead.
I still haven’t told Mr. Blue about my self harm, but I want desperately to email him right now and just confess everything. Then again, it’s like 4:00AM and that would be suuuper annoying. I have nobody to talk to and nowhere to get out this ridiculous pent up everything-ness. Every time I find myself alone with nobody but me, I just have to stew in my self-hatred. I want it to go away. I want everything to go away and I want to magically teleport to a world where my mom is happy and her back doesn’t hurt and my dad gone and so is his gold digging wife and I don’t have to see them and twitch in the days leading up to visits and injure and cry for no reason and tell nobody and where everybody is just HAPPY.
Life isn’t fair. My mom used to tell me that all the time and it made me so mad because I KNOW. I had to go from the misery at my dad’s house to my mom’s house where we had no heat and hot water and share my room with my evil ex-stepsister and get treated lousy by her and her father and still smile and tell my mom I love her because I do and life isn’t fair to her either. I don’t even know what the point of what I’m saying is but it just keeps coming out and I just keep getting more and more upset because I’m realizing that nobody ever worries about how I’m doing when that’s all I do for everybody else. Thats not even true and I don’t even mean it because tons of people care about me and it’s not their fault I don’t take care of myself, but I’m just SO FRUSTRATED. Nobody hears my words! It’s like I’m screaming into a sea of the deaf waiting for a response. This is the only place I really feel anybody’s listening.
This is all my father’s fault. This is exactly how he wants me to feel and it’s working because he’s good at what he does. He unravels people. He finds a loose thread and he just keeps pulling and pulling and pulling until you’re nothing but a pile of yarn for him to manipulate into whatever he pleases. I hate him. I am nothing to him. I am a puppet he can poke at to hurt my mom. It’s like not even having a dad at all.
I’m not even mad I feel fatherless, I’ve had my whole life to get past that feeling; I’m mad he’s still messing with my life. If he doesn’t love me, what right does he have to sit in front of me and lie to my face and say he does? If he was never involved in my life other than to hurt me, why does he still have the right to tell me he’d do anything for me and then refuse to to take an HOUR out of his Saturday ONCE a month because he has “other commitments”?? HOW DOES HE EVEN KNOW HE HAS PLANS EVERY SECOND SATURDAY FOR EVERY MONTH? HE DOESN’T, THATS HOW. I bet his “other commitments” include skiing in his vacation house he bought with my brother and I’s college funds.
I hate him so much and all of the events of the late have just stirred up this anger I’ve been carrying for so long and I have nowhere to put it. I want to hurt myself so badly. Every time I’m alone with myself I’m crawling out of my skin. I have nothing else to say but I don’t feel much better. I just feel more angry than I did before I started writing and more tired with everything around me. I wish I could disappear.