a w a k e

transluscent

i cannot sleep. i cannot put my overly active mind to rest.
i never can.
my brain refuses to shut up. at least it's starting calling me elliot.
i don't know why this happens. my skull has an infinite amount of thoughts bouncing around in it. sometimes i don't mind, others i just want to punch my brain because i'm trying to sleep or do a freaking test or something. when i'm trying to figure out the value of 't' i don't need not want constant commentary.
it also sucks when your heart is pounding like andy hurley's drum solos. when you can't seem to force enough air into your lungs and tears start to fall from your perpetually bloodshot eyes. when your stomach sinks to the soil and you sweat pinballs. all because you can't muster the courage to speak. because you cannot tell anyone or else you're dead. kicked out and left in the gutter filled with water from the pelting rain. when you just want to scream, cry, run away and/or die because of the worthless sinner you are.
my head knows it. it knows that's what i am.
i'm not normal. i'm not in the slightest. i'm not anything of mediocre regard (let alone high regard).
please. let me out. let me out of the cage that is my body. set me free. let me be me.

but then again if i were to do that, tell every single person and scream it at the top of my lungs, i know what would happen and inevitably will.
i'll still be referred to as 'ella'. i'll be asked stupid, annoying questions.
my privacy will be invaded.
my rights taken away.
forced out of my house.
forced to be who i was long ago.
i feel like 'ella' is a completely different entity. like she lived a lifetime ago and elliot has taken over. i've started anew.
or at least i'd like to think that.
i can never escape my past. it's always running, catching up to me wherever i go. i can try to run, attempt feebly to leave it all behind me.
he will find me again.
he literally already tried to buy me back. guilt me into letting him back into my life. $100 is a lot of money. he knows that i'm aware he doesn't have a job. he cannot possibly afford to just give me that kind of cash.
it's not going to work on me.
but i'm not that strong.

i remember when my mum told me my father got me a christmas present. and a card. my stomach sank and i felt my lungs working faster to get more air into them. my heart booming out of my chest. she asked if i wanted it. i said i wanted to know what it was. she said money and i asked how much. she told me to guess. i said $20. she said more. i said $50. she said more. i exhaled shakily, my hands were just as so. i said $100. she said yes. i asked what the card said and she just passed it to me.
dear ella,
i pray you are feeling much better now. hopefully you can manage to tolerate me again soon. i hope that one day you'll become a daughter i can be proud of.
love,
dad xxx

there were so many things wrong with this, even though i could only notice one thing.
'ella' and 'daughter'.
i don't think i have to explain those.
mum had to point out the rest to me. i suppose i was just so used to it all after thirteen years (basically my whole goddamn life). i'm going to leave it up to you, dear reader, to figure out the others for yourself.

believe me, i'm not ungrateful.
i'm just sick of people controlling me. guilting me, keeping me under their thumb. even my mum has done it. every time i couldn't stop the tears. i feel like i'm always crying these days.
never sleeping, always crying a thunderstorm.
buying your son back is a whole new low.
what he did to us, the year my parents got divorced, became classified as domestic violence.
my father, the emotional abuser.

rick thomson, if you ever see this, don't even bother. i hate you and always will. i will never 'tolerate' you and i hope you don't end up in hell, that's where i, the emo, trans, bi, sinner, shall end up. i don't want to see you again.
i damn you to purgatory.
i cannot believe what you did to us. i watched your suicide attempt. i witnessed the aftermath. my ten-year-old brain erased the ordeal from my memory completely. mum had to tell me a few months back. you held the possibility of your death at your own hands over our heads for so damn long. and you kept doing it to the degree where i couldn't not see you, i couldn't not accept very gift that i didn't want, i couldn't say 'no' to you in fear of you 'getting really sick again'. that's all i thought it was because you lied to me. you smoked cigarettes and weed in front of me and i was forbidden from telling anyone. you tried to make me despise my own mother and the communities where i have found shelter and comfort for  once in my life. where i have felt at home.
rick, you ruined my life. you have been doing it for its entirety. 
i didn't even know. i didn't know any different.

i absolutely loathe you dad.

-elliot