I have too many emotions and not enough ways to express them outside of crying or writing. I’m mad, mostly. I want the anger to go away.
I’m mad because I’m an adult now and it’s substantially difficult for me to accept my childhood, or lack thereof. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t great. My family didn’t take vacations, we didn’t spend time together. Mom and Dad didn’t really love each other. Our house was messy and my dad didn’t care. My mom worked a lot, so my sister had to raise me. She did a good job, but it wasn’t her responsibility. She had it rough too. They had it worse than me. I’m mad because when I think back to my childhood the only thing I can think about is my father’s suicide. I can only think of the days after I learned he took his life. I was mad at my mom for awhile. Why did she have to leave dad? I know why now, of course. But it all came too quickly. I didn’t have time to heal. I am not healed.
I am mad because I was doomed from the get-go. I am constantly sad. Depression–it’s killer. I think it’s killing me but I am trying not to let it. I’ve come really far and I don’t want to lose myself now. But it’s true, I don’t really feel like I ever had the chance to be normal. I never had the opportunity to be “like the others,” which I guess can be a good thing if you’re one of those “glass half-full” people. I’m mad because for once I just want normalcy.
I’m mad because the relationships I have with my family are next to non-existent. I’m mad because some days I really don’t want to be on earth anymore, and so I cry out for help, but it seems like no ones listening. People have their own lives, I get that. But I need help sometimes.
I’m mad because I’ve taken pill after pill after pill and all they do is make me tired and sick. I can’t sleep at night. I’m mad because I’m exhausted and I have to go on with my days smiling and laughing and pretending like I don’t want to die but honestly, I’m tired of fighting. But I’ll continue to smile and laugh because I don’t want people to worry about me. People have their own lives.
I’m mad because I don’t know if there’s reversing the damage that’s done. I am an angry person. I do my best to be positive and uplifting and bubbly, but my soul is tired. I hope that one day I can feel loved beyond anything I could fathom. I pray that I can keep going, even on the bad days. I refuse to transform into a product of my past; but things are becoming heavy, now more than ever.
I need someone now more than ever.