I keep asking myself this question... and finally I found at least a little part of the answer.
I am mean to people I love and I am rude and disrespectful to everyone around me. That's a fact. Well I hate stating the obvious, but I had to start somehow.
When I was a little girl I thought things. People said things and in response I thought things. I often cried at night and during the day I was trying to do whatever would make people (like my parents) happy. I thought sad things and I dreamt about a better life somewhere else, with someone else, where everything was ok and I was happy. Later though I realized I might also deserve the life I was living. As I grew older, my heart started to hurt (really physically hurt, like ouch) and I got used to it. I was unhappy and that seemed normal to me. But I started to think all kinds of mean stuff. When my stepdad yelled at me, I thought about him dying or suffering. When my mom yelled at me, I hoped she could once see everything I felt and understand it. At night I also often dreamt about having a choice. I imagined myself in the middle of a huge crowd consisting of all the people I know, standing on a table and chosing the ones I wanted to live with and the ones I wanted to go away forever.
When I was ten, I told my stepdad he was an idiot. I still remember that day unbelievably clearly. I was standing outside in our back yard and he wanted me to do something, idk what, and I told him I'd done enough that day and that I'd do it later. He started yelling at me and I said something like "I'm not gonna do it and there's no way you'll make me, idiot" and I ran away. I felt really good and really bad at the same time.
After that I stopped crying at night. I felt stronger and better and my heart didn't hurt that much any more... but still I was afraid to say what I thought and I was unhappy.
When I was about fifteen, sixteen, I started to be really mad at life and I decided to find a way to make it better... because everyone around me said that if I wanted to make things better no one else was gonna do it for me.
So one day, I don't remember exactly when it was, I started saying what I thought out loud. And I had so much sad and mean and rude stuff to say that I'm still not nice to people all the way till now.
I'm sure that has changed my life... but I feel that it wasn't the right change... the change I expected... because now everyone knows how I feel and every time I open my mouth someone gets hurt.
I'm siting here now, looking back, pitying everything I've ever said. I just wish I could go back to first grade and learn how to shut up again. I hated the world then, I hated my family and everything else too.. but now I hate myself and I'm sure people look at me that way too. I can hear what I say and if anyone said those things to me, I would probably go hide, cry, and not talk to that person ever again.
So, my dear ones, if I am mean to you ever again, punch me in the face. I deserve it.
I am mean to people I love and I am rude and disrespectful to everyone around me. That's a fact. Well I hate stating the obvious, but I had to start somehow.
When I was a little girl I thought things. People said things and in response I thought things. I often cried at night and during the day I was trying to do whatever would make people (like my parents) happy. I thought sad things and I dreamt about a better life somewhere else, with someone else, where everything was ok and I was happy. Later though I realized I might also deserve the life I was living. As I grew older, my heart started to hurt (really physically hurt, like ouch) and I got used to it. I was unhappy and that seemed normal to me. But I started to think all kinds of mean stuff. When my stepdad yelled at me, I thought about him dying or suffering. When my mom yelled at me, I hoped she could once see everything I felt and understand it. At night I also often dreamt about having a choice. I imagined myself in the middle of a huge crowd consisting of all the people I know, standing on a table and chosing the ones I wanted to live with and the ones I wanted to go away forever.
When I was ten, I told my stepdad he was an idiot. I still remember that day unbelievably clearly. I was standing outside in our back yard and he wanted me to do something, idk what, and I told him I'd done enough that day and that I'd do it later. He started yelling at me and I said something like "I'm not gonna do it and there's no way you'll make me, idiot" and I ran away. I felt really good and really bad at the same time.
After that I stopped crying at night. I felt stronger and better and my heart didn't hurt that much any more... but still I was afraid to say what I thought and I was unhappy.
When I was about fifteen, sixteen, I started to be really mad at life and I decided to find a way to make it better... because everyone around me said that if I wanted to make things better no one else was gonna do it for me.
So one day, I don't remember exactly when it was, I started saying what I thought out loud. And I had so much sad and mean and rude stuff to say that I'm still not nice to people all the way till now.
I'm sure that has changed my life... but I feel that it wasn't the right change... the change I expected... because now everyone knows how I feel and every time I open my mouth someone gets hurt.
I'm siting here now, looking back, pitying everything I've ever said. I just wish I could go back to first grade and learn how to shut up again. I hated the world then, I hated my family and everything else too.. but now I hate myself and I'm sure people look at me that way too. I can hear what I say and if anyone said those things to me, I would probably go hide, cry, and not talk to that person ever again.
So, my dear ones, if I am mean to you ever again, punch me in the face. I deserve it.
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