My window was open, it was open a lot of the time, I didn’t like shutting it because then it got all stuffy in my room and I hated that.1
My room… suppose to be a place where I can go and be away from everything else… yeah… whatever. I despise my room, for a lot of reasons. I hate it because I sleep in the bed my brother use to, which made me think about how much I hated that he left me here alone. I hated it because my sister had fucked some fucktard she brought home from school in my room, why my room? she has a room of her own… and that reminded me that I hate school, I like learning, but I hate school, too much shit happens at school and I hate it.2
I tried to forget about everything and just sit there, but the memorys of people always being angry about something always came back to me; my father being angry about his sons, how they were nothing like him, how they are so horrible and a pair of faggots; my sister… not quite sure why she is angry, but she is, always complaining about something. My brother, Esh, however, is angry, but in a wider sense; he’s angry because he hates that everyone else is angry over stupid things like thus. And me… last and probably least, me… I’m angry because my brother and me had to go through life with a piss poor father, a fucking ass of a father, I’m angry because when I talk to people about it they talk back like they know what their talking about, like they’ve been here the entire time, when really, I need someone to talk to, to listen, you don’t have to comfort me, I don’t need pity, anything but pity. I’m angry because god gave happiness and took it all away.3
Shit. Now I am remembering again.4
I try to forget.5
It’s hard. How am I suppose to forget that my father refused to buy food, then took the money me and Esh worked hard for, for some unknown reason, so we were stuck eating cocoa paste and kidney beans because there was nothing else to eat.6
How am I supposed to forget my first memory was of my father throwing Esh against the wall?7
Or that when we went to hotels on “vacation”, me and Esh had to sleep in the bathroom or the closet because our father told us he didn’t want to see our faggot faces until morning, cause he didn’t like puking before bed? 8
I can’t forget hiding in the corning of the closet, nine years old, hoping he wouldn’t find me there… but of course; he always did and I always got in more trouble for hiding, one smack for disobeying, one for hiding, one for crying and one for good measure.9
I told him I hated him so he smacked me for lying.10
When I was fifteen I stood up to him, I had gone through returner boot camp, I had been working out, so when he called me a fag and went to hit me, I hit him first, bruised him, I could swear I heard a rib crack; he looked up and smiled, but it disappeared when he grabbed the toughed of my hair and smashed my face into the glass coffee table. 11
My father is the only thing I will adapt to, I’ll adapt to his anger, his wrath, his abuse, because I can either live in his house or on the street. So I adapt. And he is the only thing I WILL adapt to, nothing else, I won’t adapt to people picking on me, beating on me, or yelling at me. Its not their place and I won’t take it.12
88813
I’m still sitting by my window, waiting for this to end, trying to forget, but it all comes back in a wave of hatred, listening to him scream at me, so I fall out my window. It’s a far drop, a long way down, but it has to be better then this.14
My brother always told me to look at the bright side, but I can’t see the sun. Always told me it would get better, but I doubt every word. He left me behind, so now I’m leaving him.15
God, I love gravity. 16
Author notes
Sorry... I'll put away the violine.
Eh?
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Really deep I liked it, made me feel all shitty again but still... a good write.
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Wow this is really deep.
I loved it. -
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Err... thanks.
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wow....very vivid writing....i won't give you pity because i hate it when people give me pity myself...very good idea....and who doesn't love gravity...hey trust me if you need to have someone listen...i've listened to probably about two hundred people vent about completely different things...really i won't give you pity...whatever do what you like...it's your life, i just walked into it. well anywho good and depressing write...
Keep on floating through the air, before you fall
M
R
PS. i have no idea what that means
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God damn it, thank you, everyone keeps on sending me shit about how they can help me by me venting with them... venting is bad I find.. sometimes it is... idk... thanks for no pity here, love.
Thanks for reading.
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Again, a very vivid write. And again, That doesn't really matter.
I won't give you any advice, or a cheerful motto, i don't have any. I can't tell you i understand or that things will get better, i don't understand, and i can't promise they will.
I don't want to pity you, because pity is futile and aggravating.
However, i do want to tell you to not give up hope.
Not on life, not on the human race.
Sure, there are bad people and there are sick people,
but there are also good people. People who are there to help you. Don't give up hope. It's the one thing that your father can never take away from you, don't let him have it.
Secondly, we're here for you.
If you ever need to talk about anything, get something off your chest, or simply have someone listen, send me (or anyone else, we're all here for you) a message.
Please, please don't give up.
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Thansk for reading, mate.
Yeah, I don't axctaully ever know what to say after someone actually read adn commented, its weird, no one has ever paid any attention to what I was saying.
I'll keep hope just for the sake that I know my Da wants to take it away. But I've given up everything else.
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... umm, ok, again, it's kind of hard to know what to say. uhh.. ok, first things first. Come find me when something happens and you can't cope, I can try and help. I'm not always here but.. you can talk to me about stuff. I won't pretend I know what's going on, because I don't, and I don't know what it's like or how hard it is. But I can still try and make you feel a bit better at times. I'm not giving you pity but.. well, I dunno. Anyway, maybe I'll actually meet you one day. I hope so. Don't give up on hope Dimi, it's the one thing everyone is entitled to and without it none of us are getting anywhere. If you want to talk, I'm always ready to listen. And I'll do what I can to make a difference. Try and keep your spirits up
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Haha, yeah, sorry, its hard, I guess, commenting on my writes... I don't make then very easy to comment on do I?
Maybe we will meet, I know Jesse doesn't want to, but I do.
I'm trying with the whole Hope thing.
Thanks for reading, Much.
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