21st April 2012

"Life may be meaningless, but death I still have hope for" - Crepsely, Cirque du freake: The Vampire's Assistant I realised recently that I'm never going to just go through life happily, being grateful for what I have and having a 'normal' routine and a nice house - you know, the whole...white picket fence deal. I realised that no matter how good my life is, it's never gonna be enough because nothing is going to change what happened. And it's totally my own bloody fault, I know that. I just won't fucking let it go. Everyone tells me to let the past be past and just move on but...when has it ever really been that easy? I tried writing this story about this girl who has to look after her little brother and disabled father. Her mother's dead and she does all the housework, makes the meals, does the shopping - all of it. It all rests on her. And she has to juggle school at the same time. I've tweaked it around and mixed it with this other story about this gay couple and having no money and there was anorexia and bulimia and self harm mixed in somewhere but the point is...I couldn't finish writing it because it made me feel so guilty. I was with the Young Carers for a couple of years but I didn't deserve to be there. I didn't wash one of my parents or look after a younger sibling. Yeah, I did housework but...I complained about it. I still complain about it, even though I hate myself for doing it. I should have just dealt with it and I can never stop feeling guilty...That should be rephrased - I can never stop being guilty for that. My family needed me. My mum needed me, my sisters, even my dad - though he'd never have admitted that. Not that I know what I would do differently, aside from not being such a whiny little brat. I'm selfish, manipulative, mouthy, arrogant, stupid... The list goes on. I should have acted like the characters in my story. I would do anything to be one of the people from my stories and not me. Anyone but me. I hate everything about myself and there is nothing anyone could ever say to change that and I try to explain to my mum why I just can't ever like myself but... She always says she was the same when she was my age. But she wasn't. If she were, I'd never have been born, and I shouldn't have been. You know, people who have been in bad situations, sometimes they get addicted to it. Well, it's not addiction as such, it's just that they don't know what to do without it. I hated school with every fibre of my being and it scarred me in more ways than you could imagine, but I'd give anything to be back there because I just...I don't know how to live without it. Everything that went wrong at the time, including everything at home...it was everything. It was all so big, so bad...it was the end of the world and I was drowning. And now...now I don't know who I am. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. My life sucked back then, there were such horrible things happening and I spent most of my time crying and getting headaches and hating. I was scared and hurt. And it became what I knew. And now it's not like that anymore. It's not like 'you have to go to school'. Now it's all 'you have to decide what to do with your life and get a job and be responsible and be independent'. I can't handle that. As fucked up and crazy as it is, I'd rather be back with the shallow, backstabbing, cruel, savages at school than have to grow up and go into the big bad world.