Okay, I’m done.

  August 29th, 2011 by mai

All the time I think I shouldn’t have even been born. I see beauty in the whole world. I see beauty in birds and I can delicious smells in flowers. I feel the warmth of the sun and the gentle light of the moon. I can sketch these and I can paint these and all the colours run together to create beautiful portraits of the world around me. I can sit for hours observing a single blade of grass, and then draw it down to the molecule.

When I show someone the artwork I’ve worked so hard on, I get a “that’s nice” or “good for you” without them even looking up. I’m eighteen and I just graduated high school. I’ve been drawing since I had enough motor skills to hold a pencil. I’ve been painting since I was ten, and working with digital media since I was twelve. It’s the one thing that gives me purpose in my life, is if I can paint the world away.

When I was little, I was always bullied because I was much different than other kids. I was more chubby and I talked funny, and didn’t understand sarcasm. The other kids would always tell me I was worthless, stupid, fatass, that no-one would ever like me. And I believed them, because I thought, ‘why would anyone lie? This must be true if they’re saying it.’

The teachers would treat me like I was stupid. They’d talk slowly and condescendingly to me. If another kid laughed at me, or stole something of mine, they’d turn a blind eye, or blame me for ‘baiting them’ somehow. My family went through two-hundred dollars in pencils from grade three to grade five because kids kept stealing mine and the teacher eventually refused to let me use the pencils she kept around for kids without one. The kids would steal other things of mine, too. My lunch, my pencil crayons, my markers, erasers.

I know all of this seems very juvenile when I write it out like this. “Why is this eighteen year-old whining about her childhood? Everyone gets bullied, she needs to get over it.” But the truth is, all these little things added up, and I felt I was so useless and worthless I’d contemplate suicide on a daily basis. I didn’t know at that age that that was bad.

I felt so lonely. I had no friends, my family told me to stop being a baby when I was bullied, my teachers would blame me for the actions of others, telling me that I’d obviously done something to deserve it. By fifth grade, I was going home crying almost every day, but if I was too loud when I cried my father would storm into my room and tell me to shut up so he could watch television. So I learned to hide in the closet and muffle myself with whatever I could find.

I felt truly empty. Truly alone. The bullying let up when I entered high school, and I made a couple of friends, but it still feels like I’m standing on the outside looking in when it comes to the world. I see my family with my sister. They fight sometimes, but my parents will do anything for her. They tell her they love her and how much they cherish her. They’ll support her when she does something. She tried to learn to paint once, and they praised her amateur painting (with paints she stole from me, I may add) while ignoring my prized creations. So I stopped showing them.

My dad still calls my art “anime crap” even though I paint landscapes. That hurts.

And now for the last couple of months, I’ve been feeling all these emotions I’ve bottled up through my high school years come crashing out. I feel unloved, unwanted, and unneeded. I feel like a failure. I’ve handed out six-hundred resumes and only had one interview. Instead of helping me in any way, even with a hint as to what I can do to be more successful, my family just says “work harder” or “get a fucking job you useless fat fuck” (the latter was my sister). They tell me I’ll never be able to sell my art. I’ll never be good enough.

I’ve tried to lose weight, too. In the last few months, I’ve been on a starvation diet (<800 cal) and exercising for two hours a day. It goes unnoticed, and my mother just says, “you’d better start losing some weight girl”. And I HAVE! But everything I try isn’t good enough. It’s never good enough.

Sometimes I wonder if the only reason they gave birth to me was because abortion largely wasn’t an option back in 1991. I’ve been given a life I don’t deserve and a talent that’ll never be recognised or appreciated. A talent that won’t even help me get a job so I can get away. I didn’t even get very good grades in high school, because I’m not a good student. I thought I was so worthless that if I failed every class I’d deserve it.

I feel so unappreciated, so unnoticed, unwanted, and unhappy. I have a serious problem because whenever I do anything I feel like a burden. I avoid leaving my room except for what I absolutely need to because I know if I do I’ll be met with a wall of insults, and it’ll just make me feel worse.

Maybe all these complaints sound silly to someone looking in, but I’m at an all-time low. I don’t cry. I just can’t. I don’t think I even have any tears left. I feel like, if I died, or ran away with nothing and ended up being killed by a bear or something, would they notice? Would they even report me missing?

I’d really like to try.

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