Thursday, October 21, 2004

All these years... you never saw... my dispair...
New depressing theme, live with it, I'm very depressed at the moment. I just got through with my most loved sister telling me that I'm worthless, a mooch, and I'm screwed up in the head.

Here, I'll give you my past just so you can see just how screwed up I turned out to be through these events.

Ever since I could remember I had my eldest half brother molesting me until I was 12 years old. Until I was 12! It had become a reuten(sp?) with me and him. He did not rape me (still a virgin) but it's horrible, even now when I hear how close he is my body wishes nothing more than to pick up for where he had left off. Molestation takes away everything as well as rape. It's a horrible trama to the body as you all know.

I developed a quick temper due to it, and was teased and ridiculed for how quickly I got angry. Going to school in Elementry wasn't easy considering that my elder siblings made it clear to the rest of the society that our family were outsiders and we were living in a very racial, biest town. First day of school, I stepped on the bus and got spat on, litterally. I was bullied constently on the play ground and at home all of us children would (no joke) try to kill each other.

I never had any friends that wasn't using me until I met Brea in Jr. High, she was my first real friend. I still keep in contact with her. In Jr. High I met a boy by the name of Ben Nelsen. I crushed after the popular handsome boys like all normal girls do, but the more Ben talked to me, and hung out with me the more I discovered that I had fallen in love with him. The summer just before High School, he had died in a car accident with his Grandparents. His best friend Gene Bush spoke with me while I was on the play ground playing with my little brother, elder brother, and my eldest sister. He litterally said in a very casual way, "Oh, by the way, did you know that Ben died?" he had informed me later on that Ben was to ask me out on the eve of the first day of school.

High school came about and a friend of mine died of cancer while my sisters got into several car accidents (they are alive but still reckless at driving, stupid peopel never learn). By this time I had placed my molestation behind me and I was doing very well. Then we moved into the city that we are currently in, I was informed by my father that he had recieved a letter from Jarry, my eldest half brother. Father wrote back saying that he wanted nothing to do with Jarry. The only one who was worried about me, of all people, was my evil sister Emily. No one else cared. After that, a very precious person to me, someone that I truly loved dearly, died.

Made many friends on line, told each one that they would leave me. I found that everyone that I have made friends will forget about me at some point in time until I make myself known again. They all said that they would not, all but one stopped talking to me with in the past three months.

To tell you the truth, the only thing that is keeping me alive right now are my cats, and the thought of what my true love will think of me if I take my own life.

There, that's my life story in a depressing nutshell, a very small nutshell. More stuff had happened but this damn thing is long enough.

So tell me? Do I have a right to have Manic Depression? Do I have a right to cry when I am saddened? If you do... then why does my family think the oppisate?
Comments (6)