I know a girl. She always had two sides to her.
The Outside; She was pretty, happy, loving. She always put her friends first, did everything she could to help them, always had a smile and a hug set aside for anyone who needed it. She had hopes and dreams for a future, she had a loving boyfriend, who was dedicated to her. She always told the truth when it came to other people, even when she knew it would hurt. She always found the brighter side of everything. She had good grades, she had every talent, she was amazing.
The Inside: She hurt. She couldn’t cry, so she resorted to cutting. Everything was wrong with her, so she wrote lists and lists of all of her flaws. Her father hated her, constantly reminding her of her mistakes. Her mother was insane, always pointing out her weaknesses. She was in a dark hole, and couldn’t get out. She was always tired, living was just numb. Feeling was out of the question. She wanted to die, to wrap herself in the safety and sureness of black, endless slumber. She wanted to end it all, and start over if she could. But she never did, something kept her holding on to her shriveled up life.
“Someone, take a knife to my chest, a bullet to my brain, a steel boot to my ribs. I don’t care what you do, just make the pain last, and end with my life. I’m tired of trying to be perfect, and pretending to be strong. I want to cry myself to sleep, where I’ll die eventually. Make sure no one saves me, and tell my friends and family I fought you until my last breath. they can’t know I let you do this to me. . . ” ~ she
Her wish hasn’t come yet, but she’s still waiting. Maybe it’ll come soon. . .
2 comments
There s hope.enuf to heal all our depressions i am just happy you have it
Hello girl,
I read it thoroughly. I talk to you now just as if you were sitting next to me right here. Listen, you are entirely you, in all your excellence, with all your values, virtues, powers, beauty, youth and all that belongs to you and it makes you the person. And you can give bits of your love and care to others, because you sincerely love to do it.
At the same time, as a young girl, you are also in need of cuddling and love and those things. And also because of the young age, you are very dependent on the approval, remarks or nodding of your parents.
It very very often is the case that many parents make mindless remarks, dont have an understanding of how delicate and fragile a person can be and carry on like that. But that is THEIR flaw, definitively not something that you must judge your performance upon.
Being a good father is a very very difficult thing and it really takes a lot of things that most of them, dont have.
Therefore, you love yourself because you know that you are beautiful and good and you dont need to demonstrate anything to your parents. Not because they are older in years it means they are better than what you are going to be when you have their age.
Therefore, you have to keep being yourself, without worrying a bit about being perfect. The only thing you have to care about is being good to people, just that. Time will go by and you will be more mature, you will understand more things etc.
As per your parents, you can do one of two things:
a) Now that you know that they are like that, imperfect and sometimes even worse, know about it and dont care any bit at all. You have the knowledge and the understanding now. So you carry on with your life, dealing with them diplomatically.
b) You could give them a speech at their poor performance as parents, stressing their inability to understand their extension of their actions and their poor intelligence, if you want, by making insensitive remarks, failing at identifying the importance that the role of parents has on the children, failing at their reckless remarks on you etc. But if you take option b, they will freak out, will get even more furious at you lecturing them, will not understand anything, etc, so aim your life at selecting people who are positive to you, ignore the rest, and construct your best environment for you. In other words, choose option A
Hugs
O