deadtrash666
⛧𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕸𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖑⛧
- May 20, 2023
- 5
I just can't stop my angry and sad feelings, hatred for my family, hatred for the lies, the fakeness and the bullshit. And a terrible sadness for what things could have been, and disappointment in myself as a person.
When I was a kid, I grew up really poor in the south. Trailer parks, ghettos, shady apartment complexes, that was my childhood for the most part. My mom was very hardcore addicted to drugs and so was my grandma. I lived with my grandma and she used to be so doped up all the time I had to take care of my little brother. It was just me and him for so long. Eating what was just ready to eat, or easy to make. I was about 7 or 8 and my little brother was like 3 or 4. After about 2 years of my grandma being so doped up she neglected us, the court ordered we live with my uncle, he was alright, him and his wife couldn't have kids, but he was very strict and a cop. But life was nice there still.
Eventually my mom got custody of us after a year or 2 of living with my uncle. Living with my mom was nice, I always loved my mom obviously haha, but I rarely got to see her as a lil kid before I lived with her, so honestly I was excited to live with her, so was my little brother. I was happy to be with my mom even though we were dirt poor compared to my cop uncle's nice house. We struggled with food sometimes, we struggled with bills a lot, often the water or electricity got shut off, but my step dad was keeping her off pills. Eventually everything fell apart when my mom and stepdad had a really bad fight and things just grew so sour over one summer. We moved and me and my lil brother were semi-homeless with our mom, staying with her friends sometimes, and then my grandmas apartment. My mom got with a guy named Joey, and he was nice enough, but he got her back on the fuckin pills and then eventually harder shit. Once they left me and my little brother for 4 whole days alone in the house and said not to leave or anything, not to answer the door, nothing. Things got so bad. My mom would cut herself and I would see the fresh cuts as a lil boy. Eventually we moved to a really bad neighborhood. And then on May 13th 2013 my mom overdosed on oxys and coke. The day after mother's day... I was 12. And then when I woke up for school I went into their room, my mom and Joey's, and my mom was dead, and Joey was like "wake up velvyn please wake up" and just screaming and crying. And then I had to call 911 and talk to the dispatcher while I assisted Joey in trying to CPR on my mom. So much vomit came spilling out of her mouth, and I made the mistake of opening her eye and it was bloodshot red, I've never seen an eye more red, it honestly haunted me for years. When the EMTs arrived, they tried to use the paddles, and it didn't work.
They took her away and I didn't see her again til the funeral. She would have loved how we had her. She was very alt and goth, we got her the most beautiful purple and black dress. She looked like a gothic queen. All the flowers were black and purple. So many people I didn't even know came to her funeral. Alot of people told me how good of a lady she was, so many people. Like a ridiculous amount of people have told me that she was there for them when nobody else was, seemed like everyone had stories of her being a standout person in their lives. Joey wasnt allowed at the funeral. I eventually learned the truth as to what happened that night, that her, Joey, and 2 other friends were up partying and my mom ODed and they were all afraid to call the cops, so they put her in the bed and Joey pretended to find her dead in the morning when I woke up for school. And then about 2 weeks after she died he was posting on Facebook "really need a piece of ass rn" and fucked my mom's cousin. I found this all out from my grandma, he admitted to everything to her. I hated Joey for years and I wanted to kill him.
I also found out that my grandma is the one who sold my momma the pills she died on. But honestly I don't hold a grudge against my grandma because I know she hates herself for it, and that what happened wasn't something she thought would happen.
After my mom died, I went to actually live with my uncle, the cop, again and he was honestly callus. One time he told me she was drug addict, not to end up like her, and to stop crying. At this point in my life, I was 13, I was struggling with suicidal thoughts, self harm, homicidal thoughts, and a general hatred for existence, I hated god the most. Eventually I stopped believing in Christianity. When my family found my razors, they sent me to go stay with my other uncle, and he made me go through this whole fucking hillbilly boot camp kinda thing, where he took all of my possessions, even the shoes I had on, and made me sleep outside in an old busted up camper, and said I wasn't allowed to even step foot in buildings, and that that was for normal people (he was trying to dehumanize me even in my own brain). The next day he woke me up at the crack of dawn, shaved my head bald, and used me to do a ton of yard work. They only fed me plain, unflavored grits and since I wasn't allowed in buildings with people, they made me bathe outside in a kiddie pool. I remember one thing he made me do was, he took me down a steep hill in the woods with a shovel and two buckets and there was a huge mound of dirt, and he made me fill each bucket up and carry them on my back with the shovel up the hill again and again til I got the whole mound. All the whole preaching Christian bullshit to me about god and what I should do to be a "real man". He was big on this idea of being a "real man". My whole family was in on it and never said anything, never stopped it, never cared, even when I wasn't allowed to enter their homes because I wasn't allowed to be with the rest of the humans.
Well flash forward many, many years later, I'm an adult now. I've had a lot of time to cope and come to terms with things, I've even forgiven each one of them, I went back home to Virginia and I proved them all wrong, they all used to say I would be a bad person, or grow up to be serial killer or something. And I came down there and was kind and forgiving all without their christian bullshit. Everyone came together I guess for the first time in years because of me coming back. It felt good, even though I spent most of my life hating these people, it felt good to see them with smiles on their faces enjoying each other's company, enjoying MY company finally. But I still can't shake the feeling of going back and forth between being angry for everything or keeping it let go. I genuinely can't help it. I fucking hate them. But I love them. And I want a family that actually loves me. They still don't.
As for Joey, last year I actually got in contact with him. I confronted him on everything and he admitted to it. And I told him I forgive him. That one, I really do mean. He said he's had nightmares consistently ever since about the whole situation. And I told him I hope his nightmares end. He told me that he recently almost died in a surgery as well, and I actually told him that I'm glad he's alive. I meant it. I still mean it. I wanted him to fucking die for so long, and now I'm actually glad he's alive. He said he even visits my mom's grave sometimes.
Why is it so much easier for me to forgive Joey rather than my family? Why does my hatred for them rise again and again, but not for Joey? I don't understand my own feelings. I don't know if I'll ever get past my childhood. I still struggle with depression, anger, sadness, and hatred. I still hate myself as a person.. I find myself sometimes becoming so overwhelmed with emotions that I just feel like I hate the entire world. Idk I just wanted to get this all out somehow and somewhere.
When I was a kid, I grew up really poor in the south. Trailer parks, ghettos, shady apartment complexes, that was my childhood for the most part. My mom was very hardcore addicted to drugs and so was my grandma. I lived with my grandma and she used to be so doped up all the time I had to take care of my little brother. It was just me and him for so long. Eating what was just ready to eat, or easy to make. I was about 7 or 8 and my little brother was like 3 or 4. After about 2 years of my grandma being so doped up she neglected us, the court ordered we live with my uncle, he was alright, him and his wife couldn't have kids, but he was very strict and a cop. But life was nice there still.
Eventually my mom got custody of us after a year or 2 of living with my uncle. Living with my mom was nice, I always loved my mom obviously haha, but I rarely got to see her as a lil kid before I lived with her, so honestly I was excited to live with her, so was my little brother. I was happy to be with my mom even though we were dirt poor compared to my cop uncle's nice house. We struggled with food sometimes, we struggled with bills a lot, often the water or electricity got shut off, but my step dad was keeping her off pills. Eventually everything fell apart when my mom and stepdad had a really bad fight and things just grew so sour over one summer. We moved and me and my lil brother were semi-homeless with our mom, staying with her friends sometimes, and then my grandmas apartment. My mom got with a guy named Joey, and he was nice enough, but he got her back on the fuckin pills and then eventually harder shit. Once they left me and my little brother for 4 whole days alone in the house and said not to leave or anything, not to answer the door, nothing. Things got so bad. My mom would cut herself and I would see the fresh cuts as a lil boy. Eventually we moved to a really bad neighborhood. And then on May 13th 2013 my mom overdosed on oxys and coke. The day after mother's day... I was 12. And then when I woke up for school I went into their room, my mom and Joey's, and my mom was dead, and Joey was like "wake up velvyn please wake up" and just screaming and crying. And then I had to call 911 and talk to the dispatcher while I assisted Joey in trying to CPR on my mom. So much vomit came spilling out of her mouth, and I made the mistake of opening her eye and it was bloodshot red, I've never seen an eye more red, it honestly haunted me for years. When the EMTs arrived, they tried to use the paddles, and it didn't work.
They took her away and I didn't see her again til the funeral. She would have loved how we had her. She was very alt and goth, we got her the most beautiful purple and black dress. She looked like a gothic queen. All the flowers were black and purple. So many people I didn't even know came to her funeral. Alot of people told me how good of a lady she was, so many people. Like a ridiculous amount of people have told me that she was there for them when nobody else was, seemed like everyone had stories of her being a standout person in their lives. Joey wasnt allowed at the funeral. I eventually learned the truth as to what happened that night, that her, Joey, and 2 other friends were up partying and my mom ODed and they were all afraid to call the cops, so they put her in the bed and Joey pretended to find her dead in the morning when I woke up for school. And then about 2 weeks after she died he was posting on Facebook "really need a piece of ass rn" and fucked my mom's cousin. I found this all out from my grandma, he admitted to everything to her. I hated Joey for years and I wanted to kill him.
I also found out that my grandma is the one who sold my momma the pills she died on. But honestly I don't hold a grudge against my grandma because I know she hates herself for it, and that what happened wasn't something she thought would happen.
After my mom died, I went to actually live with my uncle, the cop, again and he was honestly callus. One time he told me she was drug addict, not to end up like her, and to stop crying. At this point in my life, I was 13, I was struggling with suicidal thoughts, self harm, homicidal thoughts, and a general hatred for existence, I hated god the most. Eventually I stopped believing in Christianity. When my family found my razors, they sent me to go stay with my other uncle, and he made me go through this whole fucking hillbilly boot camp kinda thing, where he took all of my possessions, even the shoes I had on, and made me sleep outside in an old busted up camper, and said I wasn't allowed to even step foot in buildings, and that that was for normal people (he was trying to dehumanize me even in my own brain). The next day he woke me up at the crack of dawn, shaved my head bald, and used me to do a ton of yard work. They only fed me plain, unflavored grits and since I wasn't allowed in buildings with people, they made me bathe outside in a kiddie pool. I remember one thing he made me do was, he took me down a steep hill in the woods with a shovel and two buckets and there was a huge mound of dirt, and he made me fill each bucket up and carry them on my back with the shovel up the hill again and again til I got the whole mound. All the whole preaching Christian bullshit to me about god and what I should do to be a "real man". He was big on this idea of being a "real man". My whole family was in on it and never said anything, never stopped it, never cared, even when I wasn't allowed to enter their homes because I wasn't allowed to be with the rest of the humans.
Well flash forward many, many years later, I'm an adult now. I've had a lot of time to cope and come to terms with things, I've even forgiven each one of them, I went back home to Virginia and I proved them all wrong, they all used to say I would be a bad person, or grow up to be serial killer or something. And I came down there and was kind and forgiving all without their christian bullshit. Everyone came together I guess for the first time in years because of me coming back. It felt good, even though I spent most of my life hating these people, it felt good to see them with smiles on their faces enjoying each other's company, enjoying MY company finally. But I still can't shake the feeling of going back and forth between being angry for everything or keeping it let go. I genuinely can't help it. I fucking hate them. But I love them. And I want a family that actually loves me. They still don't.
As for Joey, last year I actually got in contact with him. I confronted him on everything and he admitted to it. And I told him I forgive him. That one, I really do mean. He said he's had nightmares consistently ever since about the whole situation. And I told him I hope his nightmares end. He told me that he recently almost died in a surgery as well, and I actually told him that I'm glad he's alive. I meant it. I still mean it. I wanted him to fucking die for so long, and now I'm actually glad he's alive. He said he even visits my mom's grave sometimes.
Why is it so much easier for me to forgive Joey rather than my family? Why does my hatred for them rise again and again, but not for Joey? I don't understand my own feelings. I don't know if I'll ever get past my childhood. I still struggle with depression, anger, sadness, and hatred. I still hate myself as a person.. I find myself sometimes becoming so overwhelmed with emotions that I just feel like I hate the entire world. Idk I just wanted to get this all out somehow and somewhere.
