I just realised I have a sad story.
I know this may sound pretend and stuff but no.
Let me tell you of my family.
I have 3 elder sisters and 4 brothers. One of the brothers is younger than me.
The first child in my family. Eldest sister.
I found out recently that my parents claim she was an accident.
The story they told me was this.
“Your mother was sick with some sort of stomach thing and protection failed us.”
And my insides just boiled at that.
To make it worse my sister is constantly sick. Her joints often hurt and it sucks. She can’t walk much.
My oldest brother is depressed.
My second oldest has some weird mental disease too.
Second oldest sister doesn’t speak to me because I didn’t go to the movies with her.
Third oldest sister is smart but doesn’t reach my parents wishes just yet.
Third oldest brother despises me and when young asked if I could be returned to the hospital.
My younger brother hates me.
Let me tell you of my parents.
My parents are abusive.
Abused me several times when I did something wrong.
What are those wrong things?
I spoke up.
A 5 year old little girl who spoke up.
The first time I cried.
But after several times I didn’t.
I stopped myself.
I told myself several times that tears are weakness and weakness is fear.
I was 6 at best.
So every time that hand landed on me, every time that belt touched me, every time the coat hanger hit me, every time that electrict cord snapped in the air, every time that foot kicked me.
Each shove, hit, slap, poke, insult and humiliation ate a piece of me.
And I live with that.
I do. It hurts but I do.
My parents judge us girls like slabs of meat.
“You’re too tall. No boy will ever want to marry you.”
“You have no breasts. No boy will ever notice you”
“You’re too skinny. No boy will ever want you.”
“You’re too fat. No boy will ever look at you.”
And it hurts.
It hurts so much.
I threw away some too small bras less than a month ago and my mother got insane.
I can’t wear them. But she was so angry but she doesn’t dare to hit me. She did once. Called me a whore.
She doesn’t really, but she has the verbal insults and violence more by her side.
No. She doesn’t hit me.
My father does.
Since my mother is 5 foot something and my father 6 foot 4 inches. I myself am close to maybe 5 foot 10?
And my father used to be 150 kilos perhaps? Now he is 120 kilos.
He is overweight but when you’ve carried 70 kilos of nothing but dead weight you get muscles.
And he hits hard.
They’ve stopped the abuse for now, since I reported them.
At first it felt like I made a mistake.
Now I feel like I should’ve kept going till they were in prison.
Till I was finally free.
My mother says I’m too fat for boys.
She complains to my sisters that they have too small breasts.
She has gladly left me out of that since mine grow just fine thank you very much.
Much to my great trauma I even found my fathers pornography when I was under 10 with my baby brother.
My mother also says that being sick means you’re lazy.
That only she can feel pain.
That only hard work makes you tired.
That naps aren’t for children.
I have so many things to say but so little time to say them.
At the age of 8 I decided when I’m all grown up I’ll kill myself.
I didn’t think of a future job as a child.
I thought of ways to kill myself.
Most gruesome and sick way to go.
Then I thought maybe if I ran.
I’d run anywhere to just be.
At one point I kept dreaming of me killing my family then running.
That was my first day dream in school.
My mother twists my words and makes it so like I hurt her. Like I started it all.
I’m sorry if you feel as if this crazy.
How fucked up this is.
And I understand.
I think if I went to a test where they would see if I had mental disease I’d check in atleast in depression, because I’ve had those tests ever since I was little.
I’ve lied to very official people.
I just can’t anymore.
But I have to.
I don’t feel anything you know?
Like a void.
Every joke gets sucked up in it and I know I have to react so I react.
And to increase my nothingness is my mother wanting nothing more than me to have a boyfriend.
And even though I don’t love him I would make three or more children with him and get married.
My own mother said to her own daughter to fool her ex boyfriend to give her children.
And now that I have thought it over I think my sister was never an accdent.
Just a story she told my father.
And I’ve always known I don’t want a boyfriend.
I’m gladly saying I want a girlfriend and take her home to show that I rather love somebody than have children at a very young age without education or funds to support the children.
I want a girlfriend to soothe me to hug me and kiss me to say I’ll be fine.
I want a girlfriend who will be there for me as I will be there for her.
I want to love her as she loves me.
I wish I could just go around and say blatantly “I’m gay I want to kiss girls and a girlfriend. I want to kiss her, worship her and give her flowers every day to prove I still love her!”
My mother and father would surely disown me.
And I need to go to school.
I need it.
So that was a short story of my family.
I can tell the rest in different chapters.