kazewoatsumete
hey come on and bury me!
- Dec 11, 2022
- 55
I've been waiting to end up at this point for a while now, and I guess it's coming.
I would not say I was set up for failure, but I would say I've been irreversibly damaged in a way that I can't figure out how to fix anymore.
I grew up without love, but it was not always that way. Despite the fighting and violence and my mother's illness, I was shown love and warmth. My grandmother was very precious to me. She died slowly of cancer in front of my eyes by the time I was 4. But not all was lost, I still had my mother. She was my best friend. She gave me hugs and wiped my tears on sad days. She OD'd on painkillers and became something unrecognizable. Something to fear. And then she died when I turned 10.
Everything got worse after that. I became a scapegoat for anybody involved in the situation. I lost family. I lost my security. We got kicked out of many places. I was bounced from home after home until my father and I landed in a cockroach-infested motel room, where he would starve, neglect, beat, and verbally assault me. I would wake up multiple times in the night to roaches crawling up my legs or on my face. I was grieving and scared. And he was never there for me.
Still, I tried to make things better. I loved my dad even if he showed me such vitriol. I went through treatment and tried to reach him. Tried to get him help. As soon as things started to improve, he was diagnosed with leukemia. I watched yet another person wither away before my eyes— twice, as it went into remission twice. I watched him die of a heart attack the day before my 19th birthday. I tried to tough it out. I wanted to be loved. I remembered what love felt like.
Here I am, years later. Years of therapy. Years of chasing love and losing it. Years of abuse and recovery. Watched friends drop dead around me. Tried to make something of myself and did. I made a good home for myself, a good life and career. I had goals. I was loved. And yet every day I was terrified as to when it would be snatched away from me. I was as happy as I could have possibly been.
I am back at nothing. I don't see a way out that doesn't involve more agony. What I have left is slipping away. I am often ill and very tired now. I've been waiting for the sign to say I need to move on from this life, and I feel like it's flashing brightly before my eyes. I am nothing. I can't be anything. I changed myself to be loved, and I am not loved, and there is nothing now. I don't want to be anything but loved. I don't want to try anymore. I think I am going to be leaving very soon.
I love my animals but my animals are not enough. I hope they will forgive me. They deserve a better dad anyways.
I would not say I was set up for failure, but I would say I've been irreversibly damaged in a way that I can't figure out how to fix anymore.
I grew up without love, but it was not always that way. Despite the fighting and violence and my mother's illness, I was shown love and warmth. My grandmother was very precious to me. She died slowly of cancer in front of my eyes by the time I was 4. But not all was lost, I still had my mother. She was my best friend. She gave me hugs and wiped my tears on sad days. She OD'd on painkillers and became something unrecognizable. Something to fear. And then she died when I turned 10.
Everything got worse after that. I became a scapegoat for anybody involved in the situation. I lost family. I lost my security. We got kicked out of many places. I was bounced from home after home until my father and I landed in a cockroach-infested motel room, where he would starve, neglect, beat, and verbally assault me. I would wake up multiple times in the night to roaches crawling up my legs or on my face. I was grieving and scared. And he was never there for me.
Still, I tried to make things better. I loved my dad even if he showed me such vitriol. I went through treatment and tried to reach him. Tried to get him help. As soon as things started to improve, he was diagnosed with leukemia. I watched yet another person wither away before my eyes— twice, as it went into remission twice. I watched him die of a heart attack the day before my 19th birthday. I tried to tough it out. I wanted to be loved. I remembered what love felt like.
Here I am, years later. Years of therapy. Years of chasing love and losing it. Years of abuse and recovery. Watched friends drop dead around me. Tried to make something of myself and did. I made a good home for myself, a good life and career. I had goals. I was loved. And yet every day I was terrified as to when it would be snatched away from me. I was as happy as I could have possibly been.
I am back at nothing. I don't see a way out that doesn't involve more agony. What I have left is slipping away. I am often ill and very tired now. I've been waiting for the sign to say I need to move on from this life, and I feel like it's flashing brightly before my eyes. I am nothing. I can't be anything. I changed myself to be loved, and I am not loved, and there is nothing now. I don't want to be anything but loved. I don't want to try anymore. I think I am going to be leaving very soon.
I love my animals but my animals are not enough. I hope they will forgive me. They deserve a better dad anyways.
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