I find it so funny how you claim to know me better then I know myself, and you don't even know my favourite colour. I know what you want me to be, who you want me to become. I know I've disappointed you, I know I'm not pretty enough, not smart enough, tidy enough, perfect enough for you. I know you brought me up from a baby, which you use against me all the time, but you need to stop expecting me to live YOUR life. It's so fucking annoying how you expect me to like pastel colours and pretty dresses. Funny joke, I'M A GUY. I hate how you expect me to work in childcare, or be a vet,, how you expect me to be so fucking happy all the fucking time, I feel so fake around you because one slip up = you pissed of and a phone call to Callum. I hate how you completely ignore my pain, and say that self harm is a fashion trend, and I have no reason to do it. And deep down, I know I have no reason, and I wish I could be enough for you, but my head gets in the way a lot. I guess what I'm saying is
I'm sorry.
Everything is just too wrong. Me, my body, the way I sound, the way I walk. Sometimes I feel like I'm just stood still and the world and the people are just flying past, and I'm just stood in the middle of it all, not living, but surviving. That's all I've really done. Survive. I don't even know what it's like to be really happy. I can only take so much mental abuse, physical abuse.
I can still picture it's sometimes, my brothers sick grin as he laughs at my pain. I can still feel it, and it's so vivid in my mind, the feeling if his hands on me, and that dull pain in my chest, the hurt I felt. I close my eyes but it doesn't go away because it's too real and I know it's just going to happen again. I can never really escape this never ending cycle of pain.
I don't even function properly anymore. I just want to make people happy but I can't, because I'm not good enough and I never will be. I want to be free of these chains, I want to be free from my head, I can't breathe I can't FUCKING BREATHE.
I'm drowning.
I'm writing this now and I have no idea if I'll use it. I've written and re written it so many times it's pathetic really. I already know you won't care, you probably won't even finish reading it. You'll be angry because I live the 'perfect' life, but if you do end up reading this and I'm gone, know there's a lot more going on under the surface then you think. A lot has happened to me, a lot more then you know, and I wish I told you all of it, but I know all I'd get is judgement. And I don't, didn't trust you. But next time you argue with someone, think about your words, and remeber it's just one argument, and you may forget it in a few days, but for someone else, like me, they'll carry your words to the grave.
-Autumn.
