Blurbs

Gone

I've always thought about running. Not running fast, but running away. Away to another town or place with no one but myself. It seems that dream will never reach the surface of my mind.

It's the people that are the reason I want to leave. Maybe not because of them but because of me. Because I'm such a shithole that It's becoming a hazard. Sometimes I will hear my mother cry at night because of how mean I have become;  "A monster". I've become like the horrors that we watch and read. I've become ruthless and reckless. Yet still it seems that I am forever tied to the ground with the weight of my sorrows and hurt.

My brother takes the worst of what I have become. Him and my mother both. I continue to hurt him. I hurt him in the ways that cannot be seen. The ways that hurt the most. Bruises heal, minds do not. I call him names and curses behind my back. Sometimes to his face. We fight constantly.

My dad gets the least of my fighting. Perhaps it's the fact that I have used my hatred out on my mother and brother. My father deserves it the most it seems. Yet he gets it less. He makes racist jokes and yet claims to be a perfect man. He's not even close to that. He falls closely in front of Will Wray a boy at my school who uses racial slurs in his normal vocabulary. In other words, these "men" are dicks.

I hate myself, but it's all for attention. The more I cry, the more they look. The more they comfort the more they talk and fill my ego with a sense of pride. The more they fall into the fake problems that are my life. My friends tell me I'm a good person. They know I'm not. They know I pick and preen at every person that has crossed my path, because they are not good enough. Neither am I. But that was all for attention wasn't it.?

Perhaps my friends will see this, and comfort me. Perhaps they'll realize that I don't have it bad and my pain is just for the love. For the people. For the attention. Perhaps they will know.

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