"I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself..."
I am so damn emo today it's not even funny. And I started out really happy but then I kept thinking about stuff and there was a key which I thought I lost which randomly triggered one of my most horrible memories and then I was just fucked. Woe is me, woe is me, etc etc just shut up already.
Okay so. I was... fourteen? Fourteen-ish. Maybe thirteen. Anyway, I'd been staying with my father for the weekend (which was never really good. At that time I was still scared of him/convinced he didn't want or love me because he'd left me with my mother. Either way, *shrugs*) and I left my house key at his place by accident.
And I told her. I had to tell her. I couldn't exactly lie about it or pretend I had it because I wouldn't be able to get in the house. I've gone back over it and the only thing I could've maybe done different is tell her in a different place; somewhere I could get away.
She was so fucking angry. So mad at me, one of the worst ever and that's saying something. The yelling I could take. Well, not really take but I was used to it; her just screaming about how much of a fuck up I was, how I let her down every fucking time I tried to do anything, how my dad was going to come and let himself in and kill her/us and it would be my fault (I know it doesn't make sense, but I was fairly conditioned at this point to just believe crap). Sometimes I think she liked it when I cried, I think it let her know that I was sorry enough, that I'd 'gotten the message'.
Not enough, though. She laid into me and left me there.
The thing is, she's not a big woman by any means. I could've probably stopped her, or at least gotten away, but I didn't. I fucking took it, took whatever she wanted to do to me because - I don't even fucking know... I guess it was fear, or I was just used to it, or it didn't occur to me.
Really, I think I just honestly believed I deserved it. Part of me still does, and that probably pisses me off even more. Fucking conditioning. Part of me still doesn't believe I deserve the air I breathe.
I waste enough time hating her but I waste far more hating myself. Or course the parts of that which are to do with my choices are another thing entirely. Then again, Idk if I'd be this way if it wasn't for back then. Probably not.
Okay, that was good. Sometimes I just need to say shit. Yeah, so not being able to get that shit out of my head just makes me not feel good.
I'm gonna get drunk. It's been a while, and I could really do with forgetting tbh.
GOD do I love this song. And the whole album. Oh Pete, your emo compliments mine so well. Jesus, so good. I only want to listen to songs with awesome beats that I can sing along to, fill my head with noise.
In other news today I planned the next chapter of bh and sketched out the rest. I reckon around three left, maybe with an epilogue. It makes me sad and happy at the same time. Also, Wentzett prequel!
Okay so. I was... fourteen? Fourteen-ish. Maybe thirteen. Anyway, I'd been staying with my father for the weekend (which was never really good. At that time I was still scared of him/convinced he didn't want or love me because he'd left me with my mother. Either way, *shrugs*) and I left my house key at his place by accident.
And I told her. I had to tell her. I couldn't exactly lie about it or pretend I had it because I wouldn't be able to get in the house. I've gone back over it and the only thing I could've maybe done different is tell her in a different place; somewhere I could get away.
She was so fucking angry. So mad at me, one of the worst ever and that's saying something. The yelling I could take. Well, not really take but I was used to it; her just screaming about how much of a fuck up I was, how I let her down every fucking time I tried to do anything, how my dad was going to come and let himself in and kill her/us and it would be my fault (I know it doesn't make sense, but I was fairly conditioned at this point to just believe crap). Sometimes I think she liked it when I cried, I think it let her know that I was sorry enough, that I'd 'gotten the message'.
Not enough, though. She laid into me and left me there.
The thing is, she's not a big woman by any means. I could've probably stopped her, or at least gotten away, but I didn't. I fucking took it, took whatever she wanted to do to me because - I don't even fucking know... I guess it was fear, or I was just used to it, or it didn't occur to me.
Really, I think I just honestly believed I deserved it. Part of me still does, and that probably pisses me off even more. Fucking conditioning. Part of me still doesn't believe I deserve the air I breathe.
I waste enough time hating her but I waste far more hating myself. Or course the parts of that which are to do with my choices are another thing entirely. Then again, Idk if I'd be this way if it wasn't for back then. Probably not.
Okay, that was good. Sometimes I just need to say shit. Yeah, so not being able to get that shit out of my head just makes me not feel good.
I'm gonna get drunk. It's been a while, and I could really do with forgetting tbh.
GOD do I love this song. And the whole album. Oh Pete, your emo compliments mine so well. Jesus, so good. I only want to listen to songs with awesome beats that I can sing along to, fill my head with noise.
In other news today I planned the next chapter of bh and sketched out the rest. I reckon around three left, maybe with an epilogue. It makes me sad and happy at the same time. Also, Wentzett prequel!