The Cycle Continues…

I guess it would be cliche of me to say that I hate my life. It’s just, I have been through a lot of shit. I have been molested; I have been abducted; I have been set up to get raped by my closet friends; I have been stalked every day to college; and threatened to be killed by a boyfriend; I have been tossed away like a broken doll, by my own family because they couldn’t be bothered to care or try to understand what I was going through in my Adolescent years; I have been beaten by my sister, who later lied to my family and told them that I beat her, which resulted in my entire family labeling me as a wicked child; my lover, my husband also beat me; after leaving my husband I have been in and out of “distant relative homes” and shelters, and sexually assaulted by some of these relatives…

My family is so demented  that while I was in a bus station with only the clothes on my back talking to my mother over the phone, my mother asked me when I plan to give her a grandchild. In fact, since I have come to my current situation, my family has made is very apparent to me that they will only help me if I was pregnant or had a kid.

And here I am. Without a job, again. In a house, where my roommates want to throw me out on the streets. I have only been unemployed for four weeks, and pay Joel (the landlord of the house), my unemployment check every week, but still… they fucking hate me.

God must be laughing at me right now. Every time I think my life is finally getting better something horrible or unspeakable happens, and I am fucked. They say “God only gives you what you can handle”… that’s bullshit. My God, what else is there other than death, that he could possibly give me to deal with. I have much more in my story, but I haven’t the heart to confess it. I am sitting here in a state or place that is the closet I have ever been in years to my relatives, and not one of them gives a damn about me. I have no friends, just these damn four walls. I have tried so damn hard to do the best that I could possibly do, but it all does not seem to matter. I would walk hours to try to get to my old job, because I have no car. And spent hundreds of dollars every month to try to get to work. But I still lost the damn job. And my last job, I thought I have a stroke (I had a pain so sharp in my head, and nearly passed out) because I was working myself to death. I would work over twelve hours, back to back. Take the fucking bus to and from there. And get home close to 11pm after working from 9am. A lot of times, it would be seven days in a row, and they still fired me.

God is laughing at me right now. You may claim that it is Satan laughing, but I think they are laughing together.