I've been writing so much lately, only because I know it's helping people. Well I hope it is. A few certain people, that I know they know who they are. I can't help writing about how much they mean to me. Even if we don't talk seeing them go through tough times hurts me. I wish I could shoot them a message and be like "hey are you okay" but I don't have enough courage to bring myself to do it. I feel like a bother. So writing about what I'd say to them is easier. I know it'll get to them because they follow my stories. Most say I'm hiding behind my story, but I'm not. I just don't want them to me bothered by me. Which I suppose I probly bother them when I write about them. I know I do, they've said it themselves many times. But it's my story, and what I chose to write is up to me. I just wish I could tell them how I felt and have courage to talk to them when I know they are having a tough time. Offer my ears to listen to them rant like I used to. But times like that are long gone. People don't ask for help especially from me, I guess I'm just not good enough. My words mean nothing, even though I first hand know half of what they go through. We have basically the same home life, parents who don't necessarily care. Or they only care when they desire to. A "father" who acts like he knows us. Who puts us down and calls us names and says things to put us down and make us feel so much less than what we are. Sometimes we think they wouldn't care if we just disappeared because they don't seem to care, they just put us down and think our dreams are stupid and not worth trying. Sometimes we try to leave and disappear but then things make us stay. Maybe we've tried to disappear, but it didn't work. We get called fat, so we starve ourselves. Two different lives but they meet in the middle. We pretend we're okay around others sometimes, we don't let many people in. Put on that painted up face and smile. Even though inside were crying begging for someone to notice our scars, our stomach growling because we are depriving it from food. No one notices just how broken we are. We long for someone to come back in our lives. For you, it's been years of not knowing weather he's gonna stay this time. For me it's trusting someone so much I can let them in. I never can. I always tell them I'm okay, I act like nothings wrong. I keep it in. I wish I had courage to open myself up to someone like you did. I did once, and it ended in my drunk begging for him back crying on my friends living room floor. While he was already with someone else.
But maybe this time he will stay for you, maybe I can trust someone and open up.
Maybe we can ignore our fathers ignorant words that make us feel so ugly and useless.
Maybe both of our parents will learn to show us they actually care for us.
Maybe a day will come where the smile we show is real. When everything in our life's is better.
All we can do is stay strong, right¿ the one thing that we always were told. Bull shit. We can be weak. We can cry and scream. It feels better after we get it out. Not solved but got some of the frustration out.
Rambling on has always been a thing I do. So I'll leave this alone. You will read this and hate it. You will ask yourself why the fuck does she care. Why the fuck does she keep writing about my life like she understands. And that's okay. You think I don't get it. But I do. Maybe not exactly, but about the same. That's how we connected. Not the music we blasted through out headphones. Our pain and hard times is what brought us together.
