‘How do you pass the days?’

Days had long hours. But time seems to slow down even more at night. That, or everyday was simply agonizing to go through.

It gets better then it gets bad. This dynamic has all been too familiar with me I don’t know how else I’m going to put this bullshit into words.

Every day every night I chant the same thing to the heavens—that I don’t want to be here anymore, that I want to be brought home. Adjusting into a life where I have to communicate through social media to keep in touch still doesn’t sit well with me, because I’m not that type of person. But where do I go? I can’t even go out of this shithole because I don’t know places. I don’t know where to go. There simply is no one I could run to. And I’m deteriorating here, day by day.

The other day, I was chatting with Nigel about how I’ve been doing here. He asked me about my relationship with my siblings, hoping that it’s becoming better. That I should give them a chance, because they might surprise me.

I told him that I don’t know to be honest. I’m currently in a state of paralysis. I was at a crossroads, and I didn’t want to do anything, because if I make a decision I’m going to have to commit to that choice. I was left to choose between

  • being myself and being hated—continuously damaging my relationship with my family with my unorthodox views and approach in life, risking an unhappy death where I died a misfit, which has always been the case all my life; and
  • forcing myself to change, preferably into someone void of my own set of principles, someone who simply sought to fit in, stripping that persona off the real me, fabricating a self in an attempt to be loved and accepted

I was scrolling through twitter one time and read a quote that hit the nail right on the head:

“Wasn’t that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted.” — Abraham Verghese

It was the quote I’ve been looking for all my life; perfectly crafted to word how most people feel around their family. Home is not necessarily family; it’s where you are wanted. And sometimes, friends are home.

I continued to tell Nigel that sometimes, I’m disgusted with their existence. But I realized it’s probably just because I hated myself. I couldn’t reconcile it; all I know is that the more I hate them, the more I realize how much I actually hate myself. Sometimes I avoid ruminating on the thought because it only pushes me to self-harm.

I continued to tell him that perhaps I was only saying that due to the spur of the moment, because I was in the middle of arguing with them then. I was exchanging accusations with the eldest, who kept positing that I was a rude and disrespectful piece of shit. When it began heating up, all of them started shooting right at me, in front of our stepdad. Haha, I was the villain again, huh? I’m the derogatory one; the bad person, the bitch, the problem child, the sibling they wish they didn’t have. The skies know, I know, that it was the opposite. It was the FUCKING OPPOSITE. But the universe was never on my side. It liked to twist the reality around to everyone else’s eyes, and I wouldn’t bother correct that because of my pride.

Because what good will my truth do to everyone anyway, if my family, the people who are supposedly closest to me, holds a completely conflicting version of it?

I fantasized about burning them again. It was always like that; when I can’t resolve what to do, I start to think that either they should die, or I’ll kill myself. There were times when I felt it was more rational for them to die because I had a lot ahead of me and they don’t. See how fucked up? This is exactly the reason

why

I

hate

myself.

Being around them only makes me hate myself further. And every fucking time I attempt to change they give me reasons not to.

I messaged mom that night and told her:

I never tried hiding fact that I’m like this, you already know that. I know that I have horns, and I’ve long accepted that I’m a ‘freak’ and that isn’t acceptable to you guys.
Don’t worry, once I started making enough money, I’ll move out. I know I’m difficult to get along with. I know how repugnant my attitude is. But I can’t help it. I’m trying to change but every time I’m around them I just lose the motivation.

I know I can no longer change this about myself. That’s why I want to just keep a distance. Our relationship evened when I left home. But when I graduated and went back, things went back to square one.

I’m better off alone, I don’t belong here. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing.
I’m just structured that way. I’m cruel to the people I love the most. And there is no way I can make them understand that. And I don’t want the burden of making them understand. Just leave me alone, and I’ll leave them alone.

If it’s fine with you, just get me a bed space somewhere. You’ll never be peaceful as long as I’m around. So just send me elsewhere. I’ve accepted my fate. I’m meant to be alone. And I prefer being with friends than with family. Family is not home. Home is where you are wanted.

This is not home
Friends are home

I’ve anticipated her replies though. I know she’ll try to ‘knock some sense into me’ but I’ve long thought about these things. Goes a long way back. I know I had issues, and I can’t manage them when I’m around the sources. Mom insisted that she sees herself in me, but she probably just wanted to assure me that she understands. I will only hurt you mom, so enough. I know myself better than anyone. I know my capacities. I know what I’m capable of doing. My observant trait and my obsession with dissecting people gave me the ability to identify their weak points, allowing me to destroy people at will. I don’t want to have to do that. When I’m blinded by anger and pain, I might do just that. I destroy people when I’m pushed. And I will not apologize even if I didn’t mean it.

I’m spending more days being unhappy, which wasn’t part of the plan. Happy people focus on what they have.

Where did the days go by?

What have I been doing with my life?

I constantly swam in pools of hatred, sarcasm, apathy, self-loathe, and everything self-destructive. Constantly fantasizing of burning everyone that gets in my way. Constantly wishing I could die without having to do anything.

You’re way past the deadline, Lord. I’ve been asking to die for God knows how long.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s