Being born with an abusive family isn’t a fun experience to live through. You can survive but barely. It’s like maggots eating away at flesh. The flesh is your heart. Maggots are the words.
You can tell me you understand what it’s like. Do you? You do? Tell me how it feels to be put down for being called fat. Tell me how it feels to be put down for trying to be an influence! Tell me! How it feels! To be put down for who I am by “family”! You don’t know.
Expressing who I am keeps me calm and makes me feel protected. Expressing but then being judged for acting like myself is such a hard feeling to bare.
Tell me what it’s like to lose a friend that you told all your secrets to. Tell me what it’s like for you to come home to a drunken father. Tell me what it’s like to come home crying because the kids on the bus made of you for having daddy problems. Tell me what it’s like to endure physical pain from the inside out. Tell me what it’s like to come home to your brother telling you, “Dad’s in the hospital.” You... do not know.
Depression with anxiety, and hurt, and vicious pain are like a mixture of a freshly opened wound and salt. It stings away at you until you’re no more. Until you believe that you are worthless. Until you believe that you can’t go on any further!
Is it right for someone to be discriminated for their color? Is it right to stand by and listen to **** and suicidal jokes? I’ve done it. I’ve stood by because I was too afraid of what they would say to me. How they would react. What tiny little things they would use against me.
How does it feel to know how I feel now? What will you do to me? Hurt me? It’s far too late for that.
You didn’t know… That I have cried myself to sleep. That I previously used my depression for attention. I know it was wrong. It was wrong in so many ways.
I’ve changed so much. I’ve figured out how to control my actions. I’ve figured out how to bare through it. I’ve figured out how to cover the thing called darkness up.
You think I wanted the attention? No. You’re wrong! I did it because of neglect. I don’t want attention!
You don’t know what it feels like to be buried in a casket of darkness and fear. Do you? You do? Tell me! Tell me how it feels when others insult you. Tell me… explain it to me! Explain what it feels like to be but down for every little minor thing about you! You… do not… know.