My Little Lost

A/N So I'm still not sure what this would be about... but I'll just let the words flow and see what happends!

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1 Chapter:

I open the door with such strenght I thought I was going to pull it off the wall.

I look around and who's there? No one. Obviously.

My mother is always at work. I was very lucky if I could glance at her in the morning or have dinner with her! Sometimes it almost felt like I lived alone: No one there when I got up, no breakfest made, no one there when I came home, no one to say "How was your day?", no one to kiss me goodnight. But I was okay with that, I was actually used to it. It wasn't that bad... I had what you can call: a temporary freedom. On the one hand, my mother was really cold and distant. But on the other hand, she kinda let me be whoever I wanted to be, let me do whatever I wanted to do (with limits of course, I never did drugs or smoke), live however I wanted to live.

I don't like to blame my problems on my mum. Honestly, I don't like to blame my problems on anyone.

It's all my fault. Everything is always my fault. I hate me. I hate me so damn much...

Once I even tried to go to a psychologist to help me "love myself", but well... I guess I'm a lost cause. The psychologist once ask me "When did you start hating yourslef?", I thought about it. The truth is, I had no idea! I think I've always had that little hate growing inside me, slowly making his way up to my heart. And now, well, he got me. He completely swallowed me. Sometimes I can't even understand if I hate myself or if I'm hate itself.

Now you ask me: But, oh honey, you're so beautiful! You're eyes are so blue! Your body is almost perfect! You're so clever and funny! How can you say those things to yourself?

I honestly don't see it. Whenever i look at myself in the mirror, it's not the blue eyes that I'm focused on: it's the fear that they whole inside that catches my attention.

"WHAT DO YOU FEAR SO MUCH!", I scream at myself in the mirror.

And whenever I look down at my body I don't see an "almost perfect" lean body. I see a piece of flesh and bones, all worn out with pain and lonelyness. Even thought I'm only 17 years old.

Oh and the scars! Don't forget about the scars! *happy voice highlighting the sarcasm*

Yup, I'm 17 years old, depressed, cutting myself and fearing everything. But most of all: Love.

That sunofabitch Love.

Thats another thing: I can't love.

"What? You can't love? That's impossible!", my dad once told me.

"Hello there, I'm impossible.", I answered and got a laugh in response. I wasn't needing a laugh, but I was happy with what I could get. So I just smiled back. Even though it was a completly empty smile.

I'm not quite sure why I can't love, in other words: I do not understand my grief, mistrust or even hate for the male gender.

My psychologist once made a theory:

"You have a very low self esteem due to the fact that you suffer and had suffered domestic violence from your father (true). Therefore you always thought that if your own father (the person who should love you above everyone and everything) doesn't respect or love you. You're not good enough for him or anyone.

Well that's wrong, my dear. Your father has a mental illness. He can't control his acts, and he never will. He loves you very very much. He's just unable to show it. And I'm very sorry for that, but you'll have to learn how to deal with it.

He's still your father, he'll for always be. So the best thing you can do, is build a wall that protects your insides from getting hurt."

Look I'm not an engineer or anything, so the best I did was to pull everyone away, and that way they could never hurt me.

The problem is, I've been away for so long that I lost myself. And I can't come back now, for as much as I try.

My new psychologist is trying to help me stop cutting myself. And start having a better self esteem. But I'm not quite sure if it's working or not... Yes, I gotta admit that I'm feeling a lot better with myself. But it's like a drug: It has big highlights and big drops. And the effect doesn't last longer. So I find myself every now and then in the same position that I am today. Laying in bed, hating my onw being more than anything in this planet, pleasing to God to be someone else, crying my guts out, fingers wrapped around a blazer and stripes of fresh blood running down my arms and legs.