To The Man Who Raised Me

It feels like I’ll never get rid of you.
I constantly feel you inside me.
Like a second layer of skin.
I see you when I look in the mirror.
And I hate what I see.

You’re putting a roof over my head.
But you’re not doing it because you love me.
You don’t know how to love anyone but yourself.
You’re just doing it to keep control over me.
To show the world what a good man you are.

But you’re not a man.
You’re a monster.

I asked you to stop doing something.
You got mad, and still just keep doing it.
“That’s what family does. At least our family”.
But I don’t want to be part of that “family”.
I cringe and feel nauseous every time, but bite my tongue.

I was never your little girl.
I was just an object for you. Someone to control.
Just like you did with the rest of them.
You make me question my memories, my sanity.
My beliefs. Myself. Who am I?

I am who you say I am.
Isn’t that right?

You’re giving me so much right now.
Except that which I’ve always needed.
But you’ve taken away even more.
I wish I wasn’t yours.
But I can’t cut you out of my life.

I can’t stand the sight of you most days.
When I look at your face, I want to scream.
Memories flash on the screen of my mind.
Your voice sickens me.
Your touch destroys me little by little.

You broke what was shiny and new.
And have the audacity to say it was them that ruined me.
It’s never you, is it? It’s always everyone else.
You can do no wrong.
Your worldview is sick and twisted. Just like you.

I should have just let you die those times.
I shouldn’t have intervened.
Just go to my room and pretend I didn’t know.
Let others find you on the floor.
She says I did what I thought was right. But was it?

You think you’re a god, sitting on your throne.
Everyone must bow down and and worship you
Or face the consequences of your rage.
It works, because we’re so fucking scared of you.

I can’t escape. I’m trying so hard to find a way.
But I fail time and time again. I’m a failure.
I’m letting go of the hope that you’ll change.
That you’ll be the father I’ve always wanted.
I wish I could get you off me and out of me.

Will it ever end?

I can’t get away from you.
I’m helpless. Trapped.
“Get out” they say.
I’ve tried. I’m still trying.

And it hurts. It fucking hurts.
because even though I hate you,
I love you.

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Just A Burden

Being ignored. The story of my life. But do you think I’m used to it? No, it still fucking hurts.

I’m the odd one out. I’m the one whose voice doesn’t matter. Who doesn’t get asked whether I want to do something with them… Only to find out that day, from my uncle (not even them) that they’re going away for the day or weekend. I won’t always want to go with, but sometimes I would like to… And I would appreciate just being asked at least.

Trying to have a conversation, but getting interrupted by someone else, and suddenly it’s like I don’t even exist anymore. And they want to know why I don’t want to spend much time with them. Seriously? What’s the point when I’m either ignored, talked over, get mocked, or subjected to listening to inappropriate things. God help me when I try to express and tell them how it makes me feel. Showing any negative emotions, and it becomes a shit storm. I get yelled at and made to feel like a nothing.

I know I’m a burden. I know I’m an adult. But in those moments I feel like that past child all over again. I’m supposed to be part of this family too. But I’m always left feeling ignored. They even forget I’m around sometimes, and aren’t ashamed of admitting that. Oh man, I feel so loved and special.

It’s not just family either.

But you know what? I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m not going to ask for what I want or need ever again. I give up.

I’m not human. I’m not a person. I’m just a burden.

Don’t Tell Me

Don’t tell me it’s in the past, that I need to let it go.
Because the past has the sneaky habit of intruding on the present.

Don’t tell me what I feel is wrong.
Because what I feel is coming from a real place and there’s a reason for it.

Don’t tell me I need religion and God (your idea of God anyway).
Because religion fucked me up in more ways than one.

Don’t tell me that life will get better if I just have faith that it will.
Because you can’t see into my future.

Don’t tell me you understand exactly how I feel.
Because you couldn’t possibly know. You have no idea.

Don’t tell me I don’t need therapy.
Because therapy is helping me deal with deep seated pain and trauma.

Don’t tell me I don’t need medication.
Because that medication is helping to keep me relatively sane.

Don’t tell me I’m overreacting.
Because in that moment I can’t think straight.

Don’t tell me you love me.
Because you’re not capable of real love.

Just leave me alone.

For The Love Of A Daughter

I was supposed to be your little girl
But you just thought about yourself
Your wants, your needs, your desires
No one else ever mattered, did they

You can never make up for all you did
Even your sorry won’t change a thing
Because you’ll never admit to any of it
Just one more thing you don’t remember

Looking at your face every day sickens me
Waiting for the day I get to walk away for good
But until that day comes I’ll do what I have to
I’ll do whatever I need to in order to survive

There are moments where I still want you
To be the father I’ve always needed you to be
Moments where I think things could be different
Yet I know that I’m just kidding myself

I hate you.

But then why do I still love you?

The Rage Inside

I’m so insanely angry, and I’m not even entirely sure where it’s coming from. I feel anger about everything and nothing at the same time. I haven’t felt this intense feeling of utter rage and hatred in years. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, set fire to buildings, start a fight in a bar, throw ‘him’ off my balcony. I want to HURT people. All those fucked up bastards who hurt children and teenagers, who hurt others just because they feel like it. I want to make them pay, in slow agony and send them to hell where they belong. This rage scares me, yet I also feel exhilarated by it. How fucked up is that?

Oh well, screw it.