Today, I learned that I am capable of murder, in theory.
Don’t worry though (not a really good thing to say because you’re probably going to worry anyway, and my saying it only makes you worry), I’m not going to do it actuality. I still have my fear and love of God, and of life in general.
But when the one person I thought and hoped would be on your side come whatever turns out to be the most selfish, self-centered, self-righteous bitch ever, I can just see it play out in your head, and the scariest thing is knowing I’d only probably feel bad after the fact.
Because the very same person is pushing me to face what she thought I felt, as if she knew me at all, and just don’t give a damn to the consequences of my words. The same way she has chosen to live her life, which is why she’s always broke, alone and helpless, but because of her unique talent to look rich, with friends and capable, she fools everyone. Even herself.
But I know I’m not like her. I’d rather die than be anything like her. So even though I absolutely HATE that I have to live with her, I will. Even though I know I’ll hate myself even more for hating her, I can’t help it anymore. She’s broken so many parts of my heart for so long, I’m just done.
And I don’t really like to write about it here, because I’m still very emotional about it, but I’ve realized, not writing about it, and keeping it all inside, because it reflects badly at me that I detest my own mother, is just unhealthy and stupid.
At this point, I just pray for the day I’ll wake up indifferent. That I will finally accept that the only living parent I ever knew would never be the parent I want, or need, or can love.
I want the hate out of me as much as I want the love out of me, because how can you love a person who can’t f*cking see how much you just need them to listen, to be at your side, FOR ONCE?
Then again, I am not on HER SIDE either, so in that aspect, neither of us loses. Or wins.
To bring up something I needed to do that she couldn’t and would never understand, and to blame me for her feelings of guilt, and to be so conceited and ugly and raise up HER feelings about how I, in her mind, mishandle MY feelings, AS IF SHE KNEW ME AT ALL, is the last straw.
I’m done for good.
I’m sorry God, daddy, anyone else who is disappointed by this decision, but I am through with this. I’m so tired. I’m so so so tired.
Of pretending. Of hoping. Of wearing a mask. Of projecting an image that my family is a family.
When it’s not.
We don’t communicate. We talk, but no one listens. We don’t care for each other; just for ourselves. We are not a we. It is me, my brother, and her.
Individual. Separate. Stuck in a house we don’t even own.
And I hate it. I hate it and I want out.
But not yet. Not yet, because I need to be smart about this. I need to think it through. I need to make sure I make the right call. I need to be careful and wise and disciplined.
And I will.
For if there’s any silver lining for all of this, it’s the fact that my so-called family will motivate me to be a better person, because I refuse to get stuck in this hell hole for long.
Even if I know for sure I’m going to die within this year — don’t ask me why or how — I am going to keep planning on getting out of this hellish life with a mother I detest and a brother who doesn’t give a f*ck.
I am a good person. I’m trying to be a better person. I am being tested, and I aim to pass that test.
For as long as I have God in my life, I know, I am His, and I’ll be okay.