Where do I start?
In a way I feel I have no right to be here. I’ve tried talking to others but repeatedly told my problems aren’t as bad as my sisters. Just first born problems I guess, feeling sorry for myself. I can’t fuck-ass around anymore, this is reality. As if I need to be told. Is my parent’s divorce reality enough? How about my sisters cutting, real enough for ya? how about not being able to sleep without feeling guilty about something: being a burden to my dad, an ungrateful daughter to my psychotic mum(emotional blackmailer, physically abusive to my sister and dad, compulsive liar: Told the doctor that my dad kicked her out from beneath her legs and punched, strangled and kicked her in the head. also said that that’s why she has a lump in her throat.)
I can’t really talk can I. There’s kids in Africa, my sisters STD’s and health problems, my dad working his ass off to provide and getting harassed by my mum as well as anyone else who is a friend or associate of his. I’m not strong enough to cut, I’ve tried it but it just wasn’t satisfying. Tried hanging, but I couldn’t even get that right. Stepping out in traffic, no too pathetic to do it.
When I finally tried reaching out again I got told that my sister has it worse than I do. She has health problems this, She cut’s herself that, She gets bullied, she has STD’s, she has asthma, she’s an epileptic, She was physically abused and so on. Yep how can I compete with that. I have no right. I was told that at least I have my art and drawing to turn to for expression, all she has is cutting. You have talent to do something, she doesn’t. Yeah, sure. Art is an expression, a talent, an emotional support. But It’s a passion, I use it when I want to. If I feel like shit I’m not gonna want to paint or draw. I need to be irrational. I may not succeed in cutting or hanging, but I found something I can do that will never see the light of day.
I punch the tree in the backyard every night before I go to bed, the old 1-2 until my knuckles bleed. My resolution. I always wear these finger less gloves that covers my knuckles, so no-one can ever be suspicious. the follow up bruising and pain compensates for things I do during the day that I get wrong or can’t do right. Like every other day, just being a fat useless blob of crap. worthless and insignificant. Even writing this has been a form of “fuck-assing” around. That means an extra dose of tree trunking my fists tonight.
I’ve grown up privileged. I’ve always been provided with whatever I needed and I have two great families, which is two more that most people have. Nevertheless, I can’t just keep “living” in fear of being a monstrous disappointment to my families. Doing myself in would mean 19 years of a wasted investment of time, money , love, friendship etc. So Ill just keep punching the tree until I’m numb enough to get to sleep. Pathetic right.