It sucks sometimes because there’s quite a few people in my life that I think “love” me but that I would prefer to have as little to do with them as possible. Growing up, they didn’t treat me right. In their heads and I’m sure there’s many situations where they can justify all the good they did in order to see me happy and successful, but I remember the pain. I remember being called ugly or feeling as though my emotions didn’t matter and being made to feel like I was less than. That’s what stands out to me. It’s always weird too when they see me and they often have all these good things to say about all the good they did for me and how “special” I was to them and all I can remember were the moments where I fell and no one was there to pick me up. Or the times I felt completely on my own and no one came to my aid. I think for as long as I can remember I’ve had to be my own advocate. For as long as I can remember I feel like I’ve had to stand up for myself, to lick my own wounds. I didn’t feel like I had a shoulder to cry on, or somewhere I could go to hide away from the world other than my bedroom. And even then. She use to read my diary. She often implied I was getting fat. It was those moments of unsolicited remarks and unwelcome commentary about my looks, my smile, my skin, my…everything. It’s funny because my family often looked at me and said, “She’s fine. I never have to worry about her.” I wish they did. The truth is that I’m like this because they never worried about me. I’m strong because I’ve always had to be.
The truth is, I want as little to do with these people as humanly possible. I don’t like my ex. I never liked his family and many of his friends. I think in a way I just wanted to escape, to live above the fray by showing people that all this stupid shit like race and friends and popularity didn’t really matter. And I might’ve used him to do it. I wanted to set an example of a better life. I wanted to use the delusions I created to escape from the reality of life as it is. If I could move on from this world and all of its heavy darkness, I would. If I could leave this place once and for all, I would. It’s weird, because I’m not lacking in confidence. I’ve always known from the way people treated me vs. others they thought were better looking that I could not rely on my looks for support. I’ve known since I was 7 years old. I’ve spent decades working on myself, my inner self, diving deep into my work to try and become a better person. I am incredibly self-aware. I worked to try and make myself happy and then I realized that while happiness is good, balance is better. And then I realized that all of my work, valuable as it is, doesn’t negate the fact that to a lot of people who live in the darkness of stupidity and ignorance and superficiality, looks desperately matter. And I tried, at least, to lead an exemplary life. But oh my god if I didn’t choose the wrong people to be an example to. It hurts. Right now it hurts. But they don’t know and they can’t seem to find it in themselves to care. They’re bigots, racists, sexists, power hungry, weak. And this is just my family. I’m trying to keep clinging to the light but I want so desperately to go on.
Take me home. Please? I’m ready. I’m so ready.