☣PYROMANIAC☣

✖✖Playing With Matches✖✖
2014-01-14 00:36:27 (UTC)

Dear You


Like how you hit me and slapped the fuck out of me over a gallon of fucking tea...

Like how you yelled at me on Christmas Morning because R didn't buy a fucking Chinese Christmas gift..
You yelled at ME. For something I had nothing to do with. On CHRISTMAS.
And when R got up..
You didn't even raise your voice fucking ONCE.
All you did was MENTION it to him.
That was it.
I went to my room to get my gifts..
Tears rushed down my face...
I had to beg myself to stop crying..
Just so I could go into the living room because anyone can tell if I've been crying.
My eyes and face get so red.

Like how I was sick that time..
So sick that I had to stay in bed all day.
I was hungry that evening..
and my plan was to get something to eat..
and go back to bed.
My two brothers.. who were perfectly healthy were JUST in the other room playing video games.
You told me to make sandwiches for all three dogs..
I was so sick that making my OWN sandwiches was taking a lot longer than it should have...
Then you started to fucking LECTURE me.
Lecture me about how I just can't lay in bed all day no matter how bad I feel.
When E does it.
When R does.
Hell even YOU have done it.

Like how you always tell me how I do nothing.
Like the fucking daily responsibilities that I do around this house, plus school and homework is fucking nothing.
How I don't know what pain or anxiety is.
It's fine to boss me around.
It's fine to yell at me for anything and for nothing.
It's fine to put me down.
It's fine to interrupt me when I'm speaking.
It's fine.
Why?
It's fine because It's ME.
It doesn't matter if I'm tired...
Because you're more tired than me because you're older, right?
It doesn't matter if I'm in pain..
Because you hurt worse because you're older, right?
It doesn't even matter if I'm so sick that I'm in bed ALL DAY.
Because you've been even more sick before because you're older.
It doesn't matter if my two brothers who are more than capable and available..
It doesn't even matter if I didn't have anything to do with the problem.
Because you call me.
You always fucking call me to do whatever.
You always expect so much of me.
I don't care if you put more reliance in me..
It isn't fair.. and even if you did..
You sure as fucking hell don't act like it.

Like how you don't like my clothes.
You don't like my hair.
You don't like who I am.
You're always trying to change me..
You're always telling me to be someone I'm not.
You're always trying to make me like things that YOU like.
and you're always insulting everything that I like.
You get mad if I don't do this that way, or like that, or wear that, or say this.
I'm not good enough.
I don't do anything impressive in your eyes.
You always focus on the negative things about me.
I can draw. I show you. "That's Nice."
Like how you bought me a keyboard..
I didn't want to learn how to play the one we had before..
Why? I wasn't interested.
My fingers aren't really long enough..
and I can't wrap my head around the music sheets.
Now the keyboard sits in my room.
It takes the space that I could have used for a desk.
A desk I could use instead of the bed (that you scream at me for)
I know that sounds ungrateful.
But I wasn't serious about it before with the keyboard I played on before.. I just picked out random notes.
Now you yell at me for not learning how to play.
You never asked me if that's what I wanted.
If there's no will or desire to learn..
You call me selfish. You call me ungrateful.
Maybe I am.
I don't hate the keyboard.
I like it. It's a beautiful possession.
I just hate how you yell at me about.
I just hate how you make me feel like such a disappointment.
You told everyone how I never learned to play it.
You told everyone how your horrible ungrateful granddaughter lets the keyboard sit in her room.
I stopped showing you my poetry.
Why? You wouldn't approve of the things I'm not afraid to write anymore.

I'm afraid of extreme temperatures.
Deathly afraid of driving.
You don't understand that.
You don't even know about the first one.
I can't stand fire. You treat me like a wimp because I'm too scared and too jumpy to put my hand in the stove.
If I can't find something, I'm blind.
If I can't figure out something, I'm stupid.
I don't forget to do anything. You just don't see how I'm capable of forgetting things just like any other human being.
In your mind.. I DON'T forget.. I just choose not to do it.
Therefore, I'm lazy.
You don't know about the social anxiety.
You don't know about the unnatural fear that I get in social situations.
You don't know how deathly afraid of the future I am.
You don't know that I don't have dreams.. that I don't have plans..
You don't know that the only plan I have up to this point is to leave and live with Josh as soon as it's possible.
You don't know about Josh.
You didn't know about Ashley, how this girl crushed me into little pieces. How she shook my world.
You didn't know about Karl.. and how much it hurt when he left me.
You didn't know about any of my crushes.
You don't even believe that I have friends.
You don't know that I'm bi.
You don't know that I don't believe in god.
You don't know how much I struggle in school.
You don't know how much I struggle with depression.
You don't know that I hate myself.
You don't know that I think of killing myself very often.
You don't know what I have lived through.
You don't know me.
and You don't even know that you don't know me.
How could you know that..
Why should you?
Why should I tell you any of this?
You'd hate me.
You would hit me.
You would yell at me even more.
You might even throw me out.
You don't know because I know you would be so angry at me.
I'm afraid to tell you who I am.
I feel better talking to strangers on the internet than YOU about my problems.

In your mind,
I don't have problems.
I don't hurt physically or emotionally.

Because I'm ME.
That sort of thing doesn't happen.

~LoveStruck</3




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