in class today we had to write a letter to someone who matters in it about something we carry even if it wasnt a real thing. I could write about my ring or my fear of social interaction stuff like that.
it was really hard to do because other people have to read it.
i didnt write about my mental conditions, i only write to you guys about that. instead i wrote a letter to my father about my bull ring.
i told him all the reasons why i carry it. i carry it to symbolise my freedom, my power over myself, i wear it to memmorialise my grandmother and celebrate her culture, i wear it as punishment for being a reason as to why my grandfather is dead.
that was the one i was afraid to tell him about.
my grandpa lost his will to live after 12 or so years of having been without my grandmother. he let himself starve to death, he refused help. even after they put him on machines he just didnt want to get better, he just died.
my father always told me i look so much like my grandmother. i was the only grandchild who did. i was grandpas favorite. he let me get away with anything and spoiled me like a rich kid.
but wh he got put in a nursing home i never wanted to go see him. nursing homes are scary places and they smell weird and grandpa would always send eme home with gifts and i just didnt want to take anything from him. i didnt want to be there. before that seeing grandpa was fun! i got to pet kitties and see my cousins and swing and hed let me roast marshmellows and sing to him.
it was so much fun.
then he got sick and i stoped coming all together. i didnt want to see him that way.
he got worse and my parents tricked me into visiting on day. when i went in he was so bad. his body was thin, his bones were sticking out. he looked like a holocaust victim. he was so wired up and everyone around him was just sad.
i couldnt stand it. this wasnt my grandpa. i just bawled over him. and shook. i was there five minutes before they had to get me out of the room. he looked so happy to see me.
he got a little better after that. tried to get a little better but i would never go back again and he died about a month later.
i couldnt even stand to look into his casket.
they burried him in overalls.
i should have visitied more. he would have gotten better.
this bull ring hurts sometimes. i make it hurt. everytime i make it hurt i feel like im avenging him somehow. its worth it.
im not gonna edit this. i dont wana see it anymore. bye guys
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inside my head
HorrorThis is a journal of things that I think everyday and what I struggle through with my paranoia and panic disorders. Its not really a happy made up story but more of a way for me to handle it. I decided to put it on wattpad in case anyone else ever f...