Thank You And A Sort-Of Apology
Thank You And A Sort-Of Apology
Thank you for everything. Thank you for cornering me with your side of the story when you’re driving me to/from a friend’s house or the store and making my mother out to be this nagging, lazy bitch that gets her fix from yelling at you for anytime you walk into the ‘house’. Thank YOU, Mom, for elaborating further as to how much of a low-life my dad is…all the time. I know this enough, both of you. Thank you both for the weekends, especially, or the school mornings when something sets one off and causes the chain reaction. Is it not enough to raise your voice 20 decibels that you must go to at least 50? (Guess what, guys? I’m literally a paper-thin wall away and I WAS sleeping, something I don’t get to do much…I’m literally right next to you.)
But now, let’s get personal, because, (guess what?), as it turns out, I’m a fucking person, too. Where do I begin? Well, thank you for being irresponsible. I can see my breath and barely feel my fingers, and it’s only just the beginning of autumn, but that’s taught me what nervousness might feel like, I think. Thank you for the lack of money to fuel my endeavours or, you know, eat healthy: you’ve made me very thrifty and resourceful. That insomnia I mentioned? Oh yeah, that was a package deal. If I’m not tired as shit every goddamned day I don’t know how to function properly because my brain’s adapted to feeling sluggish. Last year I had to get my gallbladder out because, and I know this was mainly it, stress and a twisted spine brought it to 4% functionality, and now my heart is physically hurting to the point where it takes effort to walk certain lengths at a time. My grades are going down the drain right now, but they could be worse, and the guidance counselor told me I have a great transcript, so somehow I think that’s justified, right? You know, part of it might be the fact that I can’t see the fucking board because my glasses, (used for YOUR poor genetic combo), don’t do shit, and I can’t wear my contacts because they’ll cause my blood vessels to explode so I actually WILL be blind.
Now, what’s another thing, I wonder?...Oh yeah, how about my mental state. (You made me forget that that’s apparently an important thing to any kind of living being.) Not only was a very angry child, but I was also a very suicidal one...starting at 5 or 6. I know I’m not alone in that, but the point is, I was screaming, and people were listening, but they weren’t understanding anything at all. I was always the only problem--- never the violence before or after, nor the neglect in the forever now. When I was little and got angry, I kicked and hit and fought for my side of the argument. Now that I’m older, and when I rarely SHOW my true anger, I walk away, yell a bit, cry a couple tears (that’s all I’m allowed), and go be alone. (I KNOW what mind and body-numbing depression is, ladies and gentleman, so don’t you dare tell me I don’t because I’ve never been to a doctor or psychologist –I’ve told people that I DO need to go to one, but they’re just not understanding again.)
Now, let’s roll with that idea of ‘alone’. It’s a sick, but beautiful thing, because really, I’m very, very rarely ever just left to my physical self, so I’m more lonely, if anything. I’m pretty unpredictable during the week at school, because half the time now I just need to work my work out by myself, but the other half I simply don’t feel like doing anything so I mooch…I don’t want to, it’s just what we find ourselves doing, my little group of desperation and me. Yeah, I have friends. I have an insane number of people who talk to me ALL day…and it gets far too much far too often. I blow off the frequent friends nearly every weekend because I really need to sleep, write, chill, and saturate myself in my freezing world of tea, incense, guitar, and Solitaire. I try to abandon myself by immersing myself in my own brain. Way to be a fucking paradox again, Amber.
I’m worthless. I really am. Everyone else can be special, but really, no one is: you’re just a copy of some other special person from the past. My mom told me this weekend when they had another one of their fights, where my dad was throwing around wood and shit, that I “didn’t understand the dynamics of it”…which is funny, because I’m a living, breathing part of that dynamic. If he were to start charging at her and choking her again, what good would I be? He’s a full grown boy with a temper, the cops and neighbors have proven time and time again that they aren’t going to do shit, I only have my twelve year old sister here, and my brothers and older sister live at least 2 hours away. I know I’d try to stop him, but in the end, I’m doing nothing. What do you do then?
I hate this little island we have here, and the dumb thing is that it spans to South Carolina and Florida and California, because I have family there who knows some of what’s going on, but they have done nothing. CLEARLY, people, my parents did not know how to set up a proper life, and CLEARLY, they aren’t going to get out of it, so why don’t you at least help them get a divorce, which they WANT and would BENEFIT from?! Stop your fucking high school backstabbing and stop trying to get ME and my siblings involved in it! It’s really disgusting!
I’m going out of control, I really am. I’ve become a very accepting, liberal, (within in reason, of course), person, so those very few people who find certain things to-the-core inappropriate and get hurt over this or that should be telling me how they feel about it so I won’t say it around them again…BUT they’re usually too polite or whatever to actually do so. I may be good at reading people and in between the lines, but I’m NOT a mind-reader: that’s WHY we have language, guys, so you CAN use it. (I’m saying this in a mean way, I would just very much not to be a bitch if I’m not intending to be.) At the same time, though, my façade is slipping because I just don’t care to hold on my ugly face that much anymore. I am ashamed to say I’m not ashamed that I’m a great manipulator, because that’s what my environment made me become and that’s what my environment forces me to maintain. I pick and choose what I will tell you because I know you can’t, or won’t, do anything, and I really can’t point and blame because, what DO you do? I think in paradoxes and analogies and I overanalyze the shit out of things, correct or incorrect, because I don’t know what anyone really wants from me anymore! I readily take blame for quite a bit, and I’m sifting through what is actually self-righteous. And for what?! Who’s face am I fucking saving and who’s credit am I trying to build?! Everyone’s problems seems to be MY problem, and I justify that because essentially, everything is stemming from some shared thing, which is why we have communication: we project ourselves onto other people to try and look at what is really going on. I understand that. Now, though, I’m learning that I have to pick and choose my battles wisely, because I can’t fight, nor win, even a decent percentage of them in the long run.
Problem with that? Certain people shy away from me when they have some terrible thing going on, and others see it as a means of coming closer with their little grievances. You know, all this area, all this life, is making me become is a splintering crutch for people to use, and one that can only stand by leaning on a tree or digging a hole. In all this madness, I’m somehow ‘sane’, but I “don’t know the dynamics”…maybe not in the same way you do, Mom, but trust me: I know things, and you even said yourself to me that one really bad freak-out last month that I have way too many things going on in this head of mine. You got it then. It just astounds me how I have to break down completely in order for people to want to talk about how I normally stand. The people I really WANT and NEED to talk to? They’ve been there, done that, or are there now and have nothing figured out themselves…and I accept why they wouldn’t want to go back, or constantly coming back. I am toxic, and I can really offer nothing to anyone other than everything that I have right now, which is a lot of acidic, analogic, and paradoxical knowledge and philosophy. That is why I am quite a bit to those who want me, and why I want to be more for those who can live without me. That is why I am worthless, and that is why I would very much appreciate the courage to find a way not to be here anymore. So much regret, so much of it incorrect.
Thank you for this independence: now recognize that I have it even when it’s NOT convenient to you. I really, REALLY miss the days when people used to actually ASK MEEEEE, “Whatchya thinkin’ about?” or “What’s your opinion on this?” :(
I hope the rest of you take from this that when you love and hate yourself for this or that, you’re also going to fluctuate between love and hate for your entire you any given moment. There’s no such thing as narcissism or self-loathing: life is just a matter, a game of equilibrium.
-your Satan Maiden
"Some say the end is near. Some say we'll see Armageddon soon. I certainly hope we will, I sure could use a vacation from this bullshit three-ring circus sideshow...Learn how to swim...Mom's gonna fix it soon. Mom's gonna put it back the way it outta be..." -'Anemia' by Tool