So long, so boring (I mean life and my own story)

I think I need to be heard. I’m not looking for any help or something like that; I just need that people shut up and let me talk.
Well, all this start with me when I was a child. My grandfather is a pedophile and he raped my cousin when she was eight. When I knew about it I start thinking about all the time I spend with that man when I was an innocent and weak girl. By the way, I knew about that because my cousin told me, no one else in my family was enough decent for telling me about it. In my family what happened doesn’t look too much important. I mean, they know the man was touching her when she was nine, before knowing about what happened, and no one does anything. I still don’t understand it, that piece of garbage is still living his life and lived for a while with my other cousin, who’s 3 years old. If they are so indifferent to that how can I be sure that nothing happened to me? If that happened then I will understand why I feel so disgusted about men: I throw away my dad, I don’t like that my male friends touch me and I also like girls.
I don’t talk to my dad, we barely talk. In the day I can count how many words I say to him. I don’t understand why I do that, it hurts me a lot but I don’t want to stop it. It’s like I feel uncomfortable talking to him and I prefer not to. When I was a child I loved my dad a lot, but with the years I leave him and he leave me. Now, we are two persons who live in the same house and see each other every day, but we don’t know anything one of the other. He usually goes out at the night, almost every week. A month ago he fought with my mom because I talk and every time I do that I screw everything, so he went for a week. He called from another city and hurt so much listen my mother saying that she wasn’t going to divorce but asking him to come back. When he come back (Sincerely, I didn’t want him back), he hug me and told me that he loves me, and I act like I really were happy with him back. I can’t understand myself; I don’t know what I want about my family.
I think about suicide before I could even understand the suicide, when I was nine. I told it to a friend I never talk about it again. I can’t remember too much about four years of my life; I can remember only little pieces. I’ve been close of suicide 3 times. I’m not sure which of my suicide attempts was the first. When I came back from a vacations with my parents I make them fight, like always, and they were fighting a lot so I start to inhale some spray that was in my bathroom and that I know is toxic, but nothing happened. Ending the last year I fight with my mother because I really hate my school and classmates.  I use my rage as an excuse for saying to myself “Well, I think I can kill myself”. Was a practice. I took like ten pills but I knew those pills couldn’t kill me. The third time was a few weeks ago. I was ok, with my normal suicide thoughts once a week. Then I just feel selfish. That’s my reason for not killing myself, because I know what could happened to my parents if I commit suicide and I can’t let that happen. So I understand that for a few seconds I was free for killing myself, free of any guilty. I run to my room for the pills and I can’t remember me walking, I just remember took the pills and count them. I have a bird and he was calling me when I was running to my room. Every time he whistled I felt a pain in my chest. At the end, I didn’t have enough pills and my selfish moment ended. By now, I’m a little worried because I’m a completely suicide. I’m thinking that I should say what I have to say and do what I have to do in case I have another suicide episode. If I had any sisters or brothers, I would kill myself because I know that someone will be here after I left.

Sorry, this is too long. Maybe no one read it. Anyway, only a few friends of mine know about this. I haven’t talk with one of them in days and I miss him a lot. I wish he know about all this (he doesn’t know but knows some things anyone else does), I think maybe he’s angry with me, I did something bad and I don’t know. I feel so guilty and I want him to forgive me.  Right, I forgot to say that I’m a thirteen-year old girl.