I actually am quite unsure about what to do. My life seems so normal on the surface, and I don’t have any mental problems (at least I think so.)
But I lost my dad two years ago, he killed himself with the exhaust fumes of his car, not telling anyone what he was going to do before. All he left was a note saying ‘I’m sorry.’ and his flat keys.
And ever since that, I haven’t been the same. Sure, I guess I can still talk to people normally and am fairly intelligent, but everything inside me just feels so numb. Most of the time I am a happy person, laughing a lot, but generally hiding my true feelings. I can’t tell any of them what is going on in my family because they simply wouldn’t understand it. They all have married parents and are beautiful and popular, but they can’t relate to my feelings. And I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone to disturb my thoughts or my peace.
Now, to start from the beginning: My mum and dad had a divorce when I was three years old. There is a particular scene stuck in my head, it is night, my mum takes me and the cat into the car and drives away. It drove me to tears when I was younger, but surely doesn’t affect me anymore.
When I was 11, my suicidal thoughts started. Mostly I was sad because I had no friends back then, having been abandoned by whom I thought to be a real soulmate. They came and go, and I even cut myself for a brief time. (Which, as I know now, was complete rubbish.)
Throughout the whole time, my mum has had many different boyfriends, which hasn’t been easy for me, because I somehow can’t stand male strangers, even if I have known them for a bit. For example, I never let myself be lifted by any man except for my dad and my grandpa when I was little. Then she found Horst, a guy that I really liked. He was nice, intelligent, and not as desperately trying to get me to like him as the other ones (it may have been because of his age; he was 67 and had own kids and grandkids.) Then, this fall, they broke up. It hurt me deeply, as well, because I considered him to be a true friend. She hasn’t been the same since then, because she dragged home a new guy every now and then, and I had to hear everything they did.
Which brings me to the main point of my want to leave this world. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to lead a normal life, or a normal relationship at this rate, because I am slowly, but surely, getting insane because of her. When I was little, I slept in her bed, and when she had this one boyfriend, they had sex in the bed next to me. On the matress next to me. Out flat is rather small and quite old, so I hear everything someone does, whether it’s just talking or watching television.
I’ve heard my mum screwing guys countless times, and now whenever someone whispers, I get really irritated and shout at the person, because it just reminds me of her moaning.
I just want to kill her, to watch her suffer in the most hurtful way possible at these times and I am blinded by waves of rage and sadness. Of course I could never such things, and I know it’s only my mind forcing me to think in that way, but it’s so tempting. I am always insulting her on the next day, calling her a dirty whore that sleeps with every bastard coming across her, and it actually helps me. It’s so relieving.
Though, afterwards, she often sounds so sad that I feel awfully bad for being that way, and I don’t want to be so mean to her because I love her.
Yesterday was one of these times again, and sadly I had school today, but they wouldn’t let me sleep until half past one a.m. I’m so grateful that I my online-best friend was there and I could talk to him, because he was a big help for me, I guess I wouldn’t have made it through that night if it wasn’t for him.
Today I had great fun at school, and I could forget about my whore of a mum, but as soon as I got home I fell into a big hole, even though I was sitting on the balcony and enjoyed the sun. I just want to jump over the ledge and die, and I want to see my dad again. He was the only person that thought in similar ways to mine and could have comforted me. I didn’t get any support from my grandmother, because she just said something like ‘Oh, you’re not insane. You’re perfectly normal, now think of something nice – for example, me!’. I also talked to my mum about being suicidal a few months ago, and she just shook it off with saying ‘That’s puberty, one day you’re happy, the other devastated.’
I even loved being sick and at home because somebody actually took care of me and made me feel loved. I just went out with wet hair when I already had the flu, and got an additional middle-ear-inflammation and bronchitis.
That wraps up my senseless rant, and I know it’s actually nothing compared to the hard stuff others endure, but I had to write it down because it just sits on my soul like a huge weight. The only thing that keeps me in high spirits these days is drawing and making music.