30 hours away from home and my father can still make me cry.
i don’t know how to deal with these things
i’ve been like this all day half trying to cry half trying not to
i wanted to cry (which is very easy to do right now) so others would see i need someone to care now
and half trying not to because i can’t stand being seen crying and years of hiding tears is not something easily dismissed.
what i really want is for someone to care enough to see that not all is well behind the facade.
now i’m the only one awake so i’m free to cry - although my father might come back on skype soon.
i used to want my parents to split up because i dislike my father that much but now i don’t know
i’m just so confused and i can’t do anything
now that i don’t live with him i find it easier to forgive my father for other things
although it does annoy me when he tells me how everyone is mean to him, yesterday when he said it i told him that i find as a general rule people behave in response to the way they are treated but he’s so thick he couldn’t get the message and just said how he’s never treated them bad.
i doubt he even knows how many hours i’ve spent crying because of him and the scars on various areas of my skin when i needed to feel i had some control again
there’s also a scar on my hand from the metal coat hanger and candle one night and a few burn scars on my leg too, but they’re mostly scissors
just before there was a nice kids movie on, a comedy, and i found it necessary to leave the room to avoid being seen because i heard the word divorce.
i remember the time he took me outside at forestdale and was holding my neck and slapping my face and yelling at me and each time his mouth opened his spit would project onto my face also, i don’t remember what i did to provoke his attack but i remember what he did and what my sister, michelle said when i went back inside i find the best word to describe what she said is chilling “that was your first beating” and the way she said it clearly stated that i should anticipate more of that treatment in the future.
another time, also at forestdale i was about 13 and i was playing in the front yard, the baby was sleeping, my sister rang the doorbell just as a prank i guess and then she ran away. my father stormed outside and picked me up by the neck and hit my face, i was terrified because i couldn’t breathe and in these situations i had already learned that he is not to be challenged or your predicament will be worsened.
then there’s the guilt, so much guilt all the time, guilty that i was unhappy when other people are in much worse situations than me.
at oxford park i was happier. there was a time when i would own up to having done something just to save the others when i hadn’t done anything if the punishment would have been a group one.
by the time i was 9 or 10 i never owned up whether it was me or not (there were the occasionally times i would if it was going to be blamed on someone else) but i knew that it was safer not to say it was me, i was too afraid.
in perth i tried to stop my father when he was hitting my little brother and sister with a stick in the bush, but i don’t know why i bothered because all that happened was that i ended up getting hit too.
i got so good at lying, i don’t know what i’m supposed to do now.
i feel sorry for my father and yet some tiny almost drowned out part of my keeps trying to tell me he has brought it all on himself.
and then there’s the primary school, you get a little tired of it really, when you come home from school every afternoon to hide in your room and cry because you are so lonely and nobody seems to care.
when i was younger all i wanted was to be a mother when i got older, now i can’t even believe that it is a possibility for me and i still really really want a baby of my own, just someone who i can love and who can return that love just someone to help take away the lonely.
at the same time i don’t ever ever want any children because they will just have to deal with this world which i haven’t found any purpose to yet.
sometimes i want somebody to want me so much and i don’t know how i’ll get through things on my own but in the end everything goes on
i don’t even know why i feel so lonely all the time when i have people (few but still people) who i’m fairly assured do care for me at least a little.
the music doesn’t work anymore.when i was 13 i wrote something for school and it said that music is very important to me, that it calms me when i’m angry and cheers me up when i’m sad and i expanded on that a bit more but it isn’t true now. i don’t know when it became untrue but it saddens me
i don’t know why everything is falling apart
MY PARENTS DON’T SLEEP IN THE SAME BED ANYMORE
