You can choose to read this or not. I know it’s long.
Ever since I can remember I’ve been witnessing abuse in my household.
When I was 4, I remember seeing my parents fist fight all the time, & I could never understand why. I remember seeing a few relatives standing in my doorway, but I don’t know why they were standing there, or if they really were there at all. I got my first taste of first-hand violence when I was 5. My mom was holding me in her arms while my dad was punching away at her face. & I remember asking him to stop hurting her, but he said he wasn’t. & He went to punch her again, & I got punched instead.
Since then, if I do anything “bad”, I get punched, hit, smacked, & sometimes choked. Sometimes alone, sometimes infront of mom, & sometimes even infront of friends. Alot of people know, actually, which is the funny thing. DCFS is called often, but I’m always forced to lie. They never ask me alone, & I never understand why they don’t ask me alone, what happened. They ask me why I have bruises or cuts or bumps. & Of course I have to lie, or else suffer worse consequences, let alone the once I’d already get from them being over in the first place.
I forgot about this next incident for a very long time until maybe 2 months ago.
When I was in 4th grade, I recall my mom having a nervous breakdown, & I didn’t understand that. I just remember she used to wake me up at 5 in the morning to tell me “Jesus was coming.”
On one of those mornings, she undressed me & undressed herself, & molested me while reciting a prayer.
After about 5 minutes, I got scared, & told her to stop. I pushed her away & ran to put on a green striped shirt & khaki pants.
I felt terrible. Not for what she did. But, for what I did. I ran away from her & made her sad. I remember how sad she was when I ran.
I’m so used to apologizing. I apologize atleast 5 times a day, even when I don’t do anything wrong. It’s a terrible habit.
As of today.
My mom smacked me with a stack of papers & my dad shoved soap in my face. Why? I’m worthless.
My mom goes in & out of her thoughts throughout the day. She doesn’t listen to me a lot. She only hears what she thinks she hears, or doesn’t hear at all.
Today, we went to register for school. She told me to measure my height, & so I did. I came back to her, & she responded, “…Go measure your height.” & I replied with, “I did.” & I guess she wasn’t paying attention to me .. because she said it again, & so I said a little louder, “I did.” & so she wacked me with the stack of papers she was holding & was forced to leave the school by a Dean.
For this, I believe she shut my cell phone off, because it’s not working at the moment. I have signal & everything but cannot make calls.
Later on I get called downstairs by my dad, & I already know I did something wrong by the tone in his voice. He showed me the pan I washed earlier with a stern look on his face. & He asked me “What’s this?” in which I replied “What?” & he took his finger, wiped it on the pan, & then wiped it on my face.
I always feel like this. Worthless. But, today? It just feels like it takes on a whole new feeling. I’ve never felt so hollow & empty. I really am considering killing myself.
I know exactly how I’d do it, too.
Extension cord. Garage banister. Bam. Dead.
I’ve found one lovely person in this world who can understand the things I say, & his name is Henry Taylor.
But he lives about 5 states away. I love him dearly, but I feel as if it’s pointless sometimes. Other times, I feel as if my love is so strong, that it can reach to where he is. Maybe, because I have all this love to myself, since I have had nobody else to share it with my whole life.
I often sometimes think that maybe God protected my mind from remembering a lot of this, because he wanted me to remain strong, & he gave me enough time before I am able to legally leave to realize I need to get out of there, without being so overwhelmed.
Maybe. All I know for sure is that when if I’m still alive on January 7th, I’m going to leave this wretched prison. & I’ll go as far away from it as I can.