Somedays aren't your's at all....they're so much stronger than the friends you try to keep

[klckelsey]

I have these memories of being young, in middle school, 12 and 13...anyway, I have these memories of being little and laying in my bed at night and thinking. I'm sure it was the normal preteen bullshit that ran through my mind: boys and friends and school. But in these memories I'm sad. I remember trying to be as quiet as possible and crying in little slight gasps and whimpers. I remember crying much harder too and letting these gasps become big and the whimpers become almost moans. In these memories my bedroom door is always open and my dad is always in the living room just a few feet away. He's watching the t.v. on mute, and I am almost sure he woud have been able to hear my sobbing. Thinking about this makes me very sad because I've realized this is when my shame of being sad or upset began. When I was crying so loudly those nights in middle school and high school, not once did my father come in and comfort me. He never asked me if I was alright the next morning. He never came in to hold me. It now makes me feel as though he chose not to care about me. I'm not sure how true that is; if he heard he probably didn't know how to respond. All I know is that it made me relly sad to think about that tonight. I felt like I was 12 again, and no one wanted to help me.

It was hard tonight. I apologize for being so rediculous on my journal...i just needed to put that memory somewhere else.