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🛌 I’m probably exaggerating. I was shaking though.
Tomorrow is Sunday = church = working
Gotta sleep soon so I don’t end up making my parents even more eh sad mad tired whatever.
I’m just not ready to sleep after all the crap I’ve felt today. It’s really nothing, but it’s too something for me to let go.
-successful doodle replication, to be continued
-pissed my dad off (pretty unfair, I still don’t know why he got so mad at me)
-spiraled into some negative thoughts that I don’t have the power or confidence to disprove/refute. He probably just doesn’t like me. You can love someone without liking who they are.
-learning to think before speaking or acting
-learning to hold my tongue
-I don’t like anything from Starbucks except their danishes and sandwich (specific one) if I’m hungry enough. No more wasting money asking for that crap.
-what is wrong with me.
-she always makes promises like that. That she’s working on it. That we’ll talk about it later. That it’ll happen. It never does. And that’s fine. None of it was ever that serious. Nothing would’ve changed even if we did talk about it. Nothing ever does.
-learn not to talk. But to listen.
-don’t listen to what the internet tells you to do, [too many opinions overwhelm you eventually] —-ImDontai
-hid in closet.
He was really mad in the car. Like really mad. Reminded me of when they found out about my scars. He’s always so scary when he’s mad or frustrated or hungry or “worried”. I only heard bits about how he was ranting in the car about what he’d do because of what I said. Was my complaint that rude? So disrespectful that you’d express so much anger? I should’ve just thought. Should’ve stayed silent.
When I came inside the house, he’d already taken the laptop I was using from my room.
I was sure he’d come back to take my phone because he still seemed mad by the way he was arguing in my parents room. Then I’d really have no source of entertainment aside from the living room tv which is hogged the majority of the time. But I was also scared.
I don’t like hearing him talk about me when he’s angry or frustrated. I don’t even want to be near him when he is. Or when anyone is. Afraid of it being directed at me. Or being because of me.
So I hid in my closet. And finished my drawing. And wrote down my thoughts. Headphones on to block out any noise.
I don’t think he did end up coming to my room.
I thought it was a bit excessive at the time, to hide in the closet, but I really didn’t feel comfortable (I was shaken and. Yeah.) just sitting in the open in case my parents wanted to talk to me. Feeling safer in a darker, smaller, hidden place.
As I sat in the car on the way home, looking out the window and pretending I couldn’t hear him talk about me.
As I sat on my closet floor, drawing and pretending my hands weren’t still shaky.
The thought occurred to me,
I’ve known it. It’s been pretty obvious.
He really doesn’t like me.
Or maybe I’m just hung up on moments that hurt me more than they should’ve.
He’ll love me as my father. Advise me as his child. Give me things I’ve wanted, provide for me. Compliment me as the result of my parents. Compliment my intelligence as a student or basic human being with access to the educational system. But he doesn’t like me. He’s tolerating me.
And those outbursts. Those brief expressions that always stick out in my mind. Those moments.
Are how he truly feels.
He probably only loves me because the Bible tells him to.
Why else would he
At that time, he seemed so disgusted towards me. Just by the way he looked at me when I entered the room.
I can’t even —am I just really sensitive and weak fudging hearted or something this isn’t fair— describe how I felt getting dragged to the front of the church by him. He seemed so mad. I can’t even say it comes from a place of worry, all I felt was aggression and unwant (not a word but you get the point).
He just left me there. Alone. After dragging me there in front of the whole church (majority of them probably weren’t focused on me but it didn’t matter, I was still so. Idk. My legs were shaking. Thats how it always is).
Then my mom came to me. She’s always intercepting those rough approaches of his.
Just like this time. After a while, I deemed it safe to just leave the closet and got into my bed, planning to watch tv and feign sleep if anyone came in. My mom came though. Said she was going out. I could see she’d cried. I wanted to die a little.
Because that was my fault.
Because I can’t just shut up for. Forever tbh.
Because I just can’t stop being impulsive these days.
Because I’m not my sister who can provide a joking tone while complaining to soften the delivery of whatever she’s saying.
Because I’m not good with my words like my brother is despite him being younger.
I really do wonder what is wrong with me too recently. It’s not like I want to go through these stupid mood switches for no reason.
I also wish I was different. Wish I complained less. Wish I was more like them. Wish I couldn’t think. Wish I wasn’t conscious. Wish I were more ambitious, willing to learn.
I wish I were as expressive as my sister so that it didn’t feel so awkward when I got gifts and didn’t know HOW to be excited or pretend to be.
I wish I weren’t so obsessed with my appearance.
I wish I could go to church without feeling like I wasn’t meant to be there anymore.
I wish I could go to school without constantly feeling like I’m in someone’s way.
I really really really wish that my place in this family felt positive. But it doesn’t. And I’m not as good as I want to be. I’m not her. And I’m not him.
Too quiet too moody too indecisive too fickle
Sometimes I wish my body would look as weak and sensitive and dumb as I feel.
But I’m young and healthy.
I wish I didn’t have to get up tomorrow. Everything I do feels like a waste of time. Except drawing, despite none of it being original.
I think. Tomorrow I’ll get up. Get ready. And sit in office listening to white noise until it’s time to go. Then I’ll listen to white noise and put my head down in the car. Then I’ll get to the desk and do my job quietly. Then I’ll take notes. Then I’ll go home and go to sleep.
That way, nobody will bother me and I won’t bother anyone.
Think before acting. And act as is thought to be correct. Or just stay in bed.
I’m so tired of doing.