ruthemily

girl, interrupted
Ad 2:
2003-03-01 00:32:17 (UTC)

i dunno why i am here, or what..

i dunno why i am here, or what i am wanting to write. i
don't even know why i am up, i remember saying i was going
to bed at about 9pm and i can't remember any of the time
in between. i watched a programme, i know that, but
there's still 2 and a half hours of void *:/

what is wrong with me? why am i going so crazy? and why
now...why are all the people around me throwing this shit
at me NOW, 16 days before i make the biggest fucking
change of my whole life? don't they realise how fucking
scary it is just to pack a suitcase and move to the other
side of the world, without a clue what will be there, and
even what won't be there?

right now, mother, isn't the time to be sending me
letters. it isn't the time to be telling me you need me in
your life. maybe you could have made that decision those 8
or 9 years ago...maybe you should have thought about
this...considered the consequences. as it happened you
were too fucking selfish to see past your lust for HIM,
fuck your kids, nah, they'll be fine, yeh, it's quite
normal for kids who have been abused and then abandoned to
grow into healthy individuals, yeh that's right.

stop telling me that there is a hole in your life where i
should be. you have once existed without me, and so you
know that it is possible. i on the other hand, was totally
dependent on you, and it's so hard when such a crucial
life line is torn away. i want you to know my pain, i want
you to feel it cursing you, influencing every aspect of
your pitiful existence. i want you to cry at night like i
do, choking on the pain, unable to breathe. i want somehow
for you to wake up from your insular life with HIM and
take a look around you...a good look around you without
those fucking rose-tinted spectacles. i want you to see
what trouble you have caused...i want you to read my
medical records...find out about the bulimia, the rape,
the abuse, the cutting, the burning, the shoplifting, the
overdoses, the drugs, the alcohol, the borderline
personality disorder...read about all of the things i have
never dared tell you because of the shame i wanted to save
you from. but i don't care anymore. have all the shame, i
know you will feel it. you've said it all before: people
who make suicide attempts are selfish, people with
borderline are weak, people who cut are psychopaths...yes
yes yes i KNOW. now shut the fuck up and quit messing with
my mind.

death. i can't get it off my mind. it must be weird to
have a premonition like he did.

i was huddled in the corner of the corridor at school.
that's when they found out about the abuse/rape. i thought
i'd got away with it, i just legged it so no one could see
the shame on my face, but the next day dr macdonald pulled
me out after assembly and asked if she could have a word
in her office. she said she would have to tell social
services. i started shaking and yet again bolted it out
the door. only to be met by the fucking headmistress at
the bottom of the stairs, who too had to ask.

there was a girl sitting on the settee in the entrance
hall listening to it all.

too late. you are all too late.


Ad:2