I’m not even sure what to write here, but I guess I’ll start with why I feel like killing myself. I have a sister and parents and you’d think we were a normal family. Instead, I hate my parents so much. I love my sister but she doesn’t love me. I love her so much and above all that makes me want to die, knowing she doesn’t love me. When she was 12 our father sexually molested her. I don’t know what happened; I don’t really know anything. This went on until she was 15 and a family friend found out, and put a stop to it. My mother never did anything about it. The family friend’s family knew about it, my mother then knew, but it was decided that I shouldn’t know: so that I could grow up with a father. But I did find out (one of the family members told me), and I became really afraid. I wanted so badly to comfort my sister, to ask her if it was true; I didn’t want to believe it. But everything seemed so normal. There was no hint at all that it had happened. So I tried to forget about what I was told, not believing it. It hung over my head, always in the background, for 5+ years. But then a year ago my sister told me (complicated story, but that’s what happened) and I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to kill my father so much. I hate him! This on top of everything else he’s done to me and her! I hate my mother, too, for never protecting us and even when she knew what he’d done she stayed with him. I still can’t believe it, and I don’t know what to do, don’t know how to deal with this. I love my sister so much and I remember when we were so close, but my father took that away. Without getting into details, I still live with my parents, and I know for a fact that their toxic influence is what makes me want to die so badly.
They never loved me. They always thought I was weird and cold. They never even tried to understand me. I am a loner by nature but that doesn’t mean I don’t care or have feelings or don’t want relationships. I prefer close, few relationships, and am content by myself for long stretches of time. Instead they call me a bat, or a mole, and my father even called me mechanical. When I’m in pain they say it’s normal and to get over it (talking about physical pain here) and don’t offer support when I’m upset. If I came home from school (which I hated) and said I had a bad day I’d get yelled at. My mother would yell at us all the time when we were younger. My father always let her yell at us.
I don’t know, it would take me forever to write what they’ve done to me and my sister. Basically I wish they would die, I wish it wasn’t this way, or I wish I was dead. It hurts me so much that my sister never trusted in me, or confided in me, or sought help from me. I would die for her, and she just abandoned me and spiraled out of control by herself.
If I had someone that cared about me for me, I would be so happy. That would be enough to make me keep trying my hardest to live my life the best. But instead all my friends couldn’t care less about me (and I suspect secretly dislike me, but keep me around so they aren’t alone), my sister probably secretly hates me for not suffering what she’s suffered, and my parents probably wish I was never born or that they’d had a different child.
Right when I started to feel close to my sister again she instead hangs out with her new boyfriend all the time. Further proving she doesn’t care about me at all. I have no support at all but myself. If I was a weaker person I would already be dead. I have lived most of my life without love or help, and yet I keep living and doing what I need to. I am losing my grasp though. I can hardly focus enough to go to work and school. I’m trying to graduate and get a good job so I can move out. But then what? What does it matter? No one loves me, and no one ever can because I’m a freak. I wish I could be like other people, but I’m not, and I can’t ever be happy.
I just want one person. Just one, to love me. But I know I’ll never have that. It makes me want to die so bad. Obviously I love living, otherwise I would just kill myself and be done with it. Despite everything, I want to try to find some semblance of happiness. But it’s getting harder every minute of every day.
This is by far not my whole story, but it would take awhile to tell it all. I just wish that death wasn’t the only answer. I want to stop thinking, stop remembering, stop hating, stop loving, just stop feeling.