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I have no idea if Tim will come back or not, or if Kevin will. Nor do I really care anymore at this point.
If there's one thing I'm good at, it's pretending all is okay, that nothing's wrong. That status quo still reigns. You see, it's a product of my upbringing, a well-versed skill. Because if that was not to be the case... Let's just say I'd probably have preferred to stand in the middle of the fire-bombing raid on Dresden back in WWII.
I still do it, not just as much anymore. I try to keep a cheery disposition not because it supposedly helps to stay in a good mood, but because I can hide behind it. Sometimes it gets out anyway to a lesser or greater extent, but mostly I manage to keep it under wraps. Do I still NEED to hide? Yes. Because like I said in one of my very first posts, I fear if I reveal the full extent of my anguish and misery, I'd be totally unbearable to be around. Nobody could stand it.
You doubt me? Well, let me show you JUST A FEW parts of myself. A mere SCRATCH OF THE SURFACE...
I don't think anybody thinks it's fun growing up with an alcoholized psycho mom and a father who's so afraid of conflicts he too rather keeps up status quo than to try and deal with his - and thus mine - situation. Almost nineteen years I lived like that (first two I spent at an orphanage, still not knowing how old I was when I got there, or really where I truly come from). By the time I left I was already broken, though not fully knowing it.
I suppose most could understand how difficult it is to not be able to even look at your childhood photos that's standing on top of your bookcase and that you see EVERY DAY despite not wanting to look at them, because all you see is the ugliest, most unattractive kid ever. It's only recently I've realized that never was the case (I actually looked rather cute if I may say so), but I cannot erase the memories. Could you also understand how difficult it is to HATE having your picture taken because you're forced to smile and look like you're happy (and hating the photographer also for tricking you into smiling), even though you know you're not and it would all be fake (and having your "mother" get angry at you for refusing), and you're only seven years old?
Surely some of you have experienced the feeling of not being able to invite friends over anymore because your mom might be drunk and slip in the stairs and come sliding down on her fat ass making an awful racket while you and your friend sit in the next room within eyeshot of the event. Or her breaking out into a drunken fit of screaming when you have guests, thus totally embarrassing you and forcing you to run away from home for HOURS out of pure shame, only forcing yourself to return because you have nowhere else to go?
Of course it's no fun when you had such an awful childhood you can't even REMEMBER most of it, of having memory gaps literally covering YEARS at a time, only recollecting bits and pieces of you being beaten with rolled-up newspapers, smacked with open hands, hair tugged, being screamed at for not being as good as other parents' kids. Imagine not really knowing if you've been touched inappropriately because you can't REMEMBER it happening, only having an utterly vague, gnawing suspicion it MIGHT have transpired?
Imagine not being able to go on any kind of trip or vacation and just relax and have a good time because of your "mother" having constant conniption fits and ruining everything. Imagine not being allowed EVER to be angry or even irritated for ANY reason while growing up, even when hitting your teens and hormones begin to mess with your moods, because that would only make your "mother" TWICE as angry in return. Never being able to express your troubles because that would only turn into a discussion/shouting session over how horrible a life SHE was having. Only option being to bottle it up, store, hide away. Any time you're not with her, you're deliberately against her, even if you simply didn't want to wear the clothes she wanted you to wear, and that small reason being a valid excuse for her to explode like Mt. St. Helens.
And not saying anything at all to avoid her turning the most unlikely of statements into something to rage over, just shutting up does of course not work either because then she's being fucked with by being ignored. Always her in the center, how awful her life is, how everybody is against her. If someone is home sick from work they're faking it while she has to struggle on despite all her aches and pains that nobody cares about or listens to but that she refuses to seek help for because nobody listens to her and refuses to help (nice circular argument there, and yes, she worked as a nurse surrounded by doctors every day).
Then add to that not being able to name even ONE close friend up until the age of twelve who hasn't more or less regularly turned on you and stabbed you in the back repeatedly. Of being called names, being called idiot and stupid and WORSE every day by people you don't even know, never met for even five minutes nor ever talked to. Of moving across the god-damned country, only to find the same people ready and waiting for you there when you arrive. Of hiding in a faraway corner of the new school's property in fifth grade, crying your eyes out and desperately wishing to be dead! Of having that thought following you constantly through the rest of your life.
Imagine oneself racking up so many absentee hours it's bordering on failing the entire school year without any teacher stopping to ask themselves why, despite KNOWING you're being bullied to hell and back, and the same thing happening year after year after year. Nobody caring enough to even offer extra tutoring, despite grades hitting rock bottom in the most important subjects of the highschool course. And then to be yelled more at at home for bringing home crappy test scores and grades...
Add TO THAT, finding out most of the few people you considered true friends never really cared enough about you to tell you when they moved away and abandoned you. Of simply discovering one day they were gone, with no forwarding address, nor even a phone number to call.
And, finding out that that was the worst of it all. Of being abandoned and ignored. Having it happening again and again through the years, one precious friend after the other disappearing like thin smoke.
I'm SO TIRED of it all. So fucking tired. So to circumvent it happening again, I will disappear this time.
"But he that hath the steerage of my course,
direct my sail."
-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act One, Scene IV
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This post has no topic.
By: lenny on Sun, 20 October 2002 18:37 |
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Re: This post has no topic.
By: mike on Sun, 20 October 2002 20:35 |
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This one has.
By: timmy on Sun, 20 October 2002 20:44 |
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Like Hell you will!
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Actually, allow him to go
By: timmy on Mon, 21 October 2002 06:42 |
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I think timmy is mistaken.
By: Steve on Mon, 21 October 2002 09:18 |
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or perhaps unclear
By: timmy on Mon, 21 October 2002 09:55 |
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maybe not but THIS has a meaning?
By: ashley on Mon, 21 October 2002 06:39 |
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You think you had a bad childhood.... Brother I wrote the book...
By: marc on Mon, 21 October 2002 11:51 |
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Lenny, three months ago you would not have written that,
By: charlie on Tue, 22 October 2002 00:24 |
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Lenny, you may not want to hear this but ...............
By: kevin on Tue, 22 October 2002 04:29 |
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