Late Night Thoughts

July 20, 2014 - Anger & Guilt

July 20, 2014 - 11PM

A lot has happened since I wrote last.

I think my mother is going insane and they are going to lock her away in a home for people who need help.

My mother, her depression has worsened drastically. Ever since the fire she has  been having more and more depressing thoughts filling her beautiful mind. It has poisoned her, tainted her pure mind, taken her away from me, from my family, and left a shell of hollow nothingness. She is a walking corpse with no will to live. And, for letting her become this way, I can never forgive myself.

Everyone says it's not my fault, but honestly, what do they know? What do they know about my guilt? What do they know about my crimes against my mothers soul? Nothing. They know nothing. 

How could I not tell she was this way? Was I too caught up in my own selfish depression that I forgot others could feel the same way? Did I actually take notice of her becoming engulfed in sadness, but I pushed it to the side, hoping it would just blow over? All those times I did not tell her how pretty she looked, all those times I told her I did not want to go out with her, all those times I did not say I love you. Was it me that pushed her to be this way? Of course it was, I'm a fuck up. I mess up every damn thing in my life, and then it never comes back as good as it was. Jesus, I hate myself. Why am I like this? Why is my mother like this? What made us turn into self loathing, hollow shells? 

Was it the fire, or something more? Something like me? 

Yes, the fire was a traumatic experience, people should never have to go through having their whole house burned down to the ground with them in it. 

I was in the house, my room was the first one to go, the roof fell in on my bed, they told me I'm supposed to be dead right now. There is supposed to be no more me. I was meant to be buried six feet under. I'm supposed to be a passing memory. I am dead. 

But, surprisingly, I'm still here. Don't know why, don't know how. Does that mean I take this as a blessing, still being here? No. It doesn't. I am already dead on the inside, I'm working on the outside. 

 When my dad told my grandmother what my mothers doctor told her, I was eavesdropping. They never tell me anything. I heard something about a home in 6 months if she doesn't get better. I heard my dad say that shes tried to take her own life. My own mother. Trying to kill herself and I didn't even know until I listened in on a conversation. Its one thing when I try it, but my own mother. 

I hope she goes to the new home that will make her feel better. I hope she goes and gets better and becomes happy again. I hope she doesn't have to stay forever. I hope shes my mom when she comes back, not this damaged person I live with now. 

But aside from my guilt, I'm also thinking that I'm fucking mad. I'm so fucking mad. Mad at myself, mad at my mom, mad at this stupid world we live in. Why would you not tell your own daughter that oh yeah, sorry honey, I'm thinking about taking my life a lot here lately & I might need to get help! I'm a big girl, I can handle it. 

I want to help her too. 

I want to be there for her but when she doesn't tell me anything and shuts me out of her life while acting like she hates me, kinda makes it hard.  Does she hate me because she knows I've wronged her by not telling her what she means to me? By not helping her sooner? 

Maybe if she would have said, yeah, I have six months, yeah, I want to die, yeah whatever. I get it mom, I want to die, too. 

Why can't I just be in on things? 

Why can't I go a day without loathing my brother because he gets all her attention other than when shes yelling at me? 

I don't know, I think I'm going a bit insane trying to figure this shit out. And I know a lot of people have it worse than I, and they do not whine about it all the time like I feel I do. But I just really do not know. I stay up all night just thinking too much, trying to answer the endless streams of questions in my brain. But I cannot. And that why life is kicking me and everyone else in the ass. I do not like it. 

I want answers for my questions but I can't have them because no one will tell me anything. 

I'm way too sheltered to even hear the word depression. 

But if they think they are doing me a favor by not telling me, they are so so so wrong. 

I will never ever forgive myself because I know I've had some part in making my mother this way. 

I'm just waiting for them to confirm it.