Vent Entries

Do I deserve happiness?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, scars mention, running away.

—-

I lived in a big house,
With a big back yard,
With a swing set,
in a nice town,
In an expensive part of America.

I had a lot growing up,
I never had to ask for money,
I had toys,
And new clothes,
And fresh food,
And a car I never had to pay for.

My dad had a great job.
My mum didn't have to work.
My two younger sisters don't need to get jobs unless they are bored.

-

I hate that house,
with it's big back yard,
and a broken, rusted swing set that nobody's used in 15 years,
The town is racist, homophobic and full of hatred,
In a country run by people set on destroying it for their own gains.

I was not loved growing up,
Any money I made myself was "taken for safe keeping" by my mother,
I gave some of my toys to my sisters who destroyed them, so I donated everything else,
My clothes are too small because it's hard to find the sizes I fit in and still feel comfortable, so I took my friend's sweatshirts,
23 years old and I still don't know how to cook at all but I'm not hungry anymore,
My car is my only safety net, because without it I can never leave.

My dad is too busy to see what's happened to his oldest kid,
My mum left after years of hitting and screaming at me, as I protected my sisters from her,
My sisters hate me for things I couldn't control.

-

It's not about the money, because I could be a billionaire and no amount of money can find a antidote to the poison in my mind, or the scars on my soul and skin.

It's not about material things, because I can own the most expensive items in existence, but you can't take any of that with you when you die.

It's not even about my family, or what's left of it at least. My grandma and my aunt and my dog are dead. All that's left in this "family" is the broken fragments their deaths left behind.

-

I'm sick of waiting for my life to get better. It was fine when I was little! The nostalgia from half forgotten memories eats at me, because all that is long gone.

I hate that house. I hate this town. I hate this "family". I hate that after YEARS of depression, of fighting suicidal thoughts EVERY DAY for YEARS, I thought I'd made it through all of that.

News flash, I didn't.

-

I can burn that house down.
I can leave this town.

I can take everything I own.
I can use whatever I have saved up in the bank.

I can stop talking to whoever's left in my family.
I can leave.

But I can't escape.

-

I can hope and wish and pray for a better life.

I can work for it, too. And I have, 50+ hours a week non-stop for 2 years. I saved every fucking Penny I have.

But my trauma and my feelings and my history and my own FUCKING brain will never leave me. They are chains made of diamonds and I'm not strong enough to break them.

Is this what I deserve?
For not trying hard enough?
Or as punishment because I didn't kill myself?

What more do I deserve?

-

Everything I touch, breaks.

Like me. I've been broken for so long, I think I forgot that glue and tape only works for so long.

The broken pieces of me are too small to put back together. Every time I try to, they crumble and turn to dust.

I just want to be happy.

-

Is this what I deserve?

Did me surviving through the worst years of my life piss off some cosmic force and now they are determined to see me dead after everything I forced myself to stay alive through?

I don't know anymore.

I didn't make plans to even go to college because I assumed I would have killed myself back in high school. I went to college and graduated from there too, and I STILL don't have a plan.

If lost souls go to limbo, I've been here for several years and didn't notice.

If I deserve nothing else in this life, can I at least be truly happy for a while?

Please?