What about me?

I don’t tell many people about me. I tell them I have a sarcastic sense of humor and an open mind. Figure that’s all they need to know. Hide and seek is one of my favorite games..

I hide everything there is to know about me and no one can ever find it. After a while though, the game gets tiresome.

So now, I want to tell everything. If you’re not up for a half-life story then I suggest you read something else.. if you want to know who I am, then stay. That was your warning.

When I was little, everyone adored me. [i]She’s so cute isn’t she? You are so lucky to have a girl like her. I want mine to be exactly like your child.[/i] Fuck, it made me sick to my stomach to hear all this crap. It wasn’t true. I wasn’t cute, sweet, kind, helpful or anything of the sort. It was an act, just to keep them from knowing the real me. They wouldn’t have pinched the cheeks of anyone who thought or acted like I did. So I faked it all, just to make sure that no one in my family ended up hating me. Since I was about the age of four I’ve done this. And now I regret it, because now nobody wants to accept that I’m a horrible person and that the little girl act was just that.. an act.

My home life wasn’t the typical childhood. I was beaten for doing any one thing wrong till about the age of 11 or 12. I had an older sister, an older brother and a younger brother as well. They weren’t brothers or sisters to me.

My sister is controlling and she beat me and verbally abused me. Insulted me in every way possible and she still does it now. I can say this and really mean it… My sister has mental issues. And I don’t need a doctors notice to verify that. My sister has threatened to kill herself about three times, she denies ever saying things that people claim she has(even if it’s on tape). She’s 3497285742895-faced. Using the term two-faced would not be describing it correctly. She’s abused me physically, emotionally and mentally, and controls my life the best she can. She is not independent and usually has me do everything for her. She’s grown to hate me and I hate her as well. I could refuse to do what she demands, I could hit her back to show her what I feel, I could point out all her defects as she does to me. I can’t though. I’ve never been able to and I doubt I could come up with enough courage to do so. As much as I hate everything she has done to me.. I don’t want to hurt her.

My older brother is just about the biggest dick I have [b]ever[/b] met. I lost all trust in people because of him. I tried once to tell him a joke, brighten his day, and he went off on me and almost threw me into the wall. I just wanted to make him laugh. I’m afraid to go into his room because he is so paranoid about me finding something of his. He won’t let me do anything that pertains to him or any of his friends. If I asked him a personal question he’d tell me to get the fuck away from him and stop “bothering” him. It’s not bothering, I’m just interested in knowing what the hell is going on in his life and he sees it as me spying on him or trying to get information about him so I can blackmail him. For what? I haven’t a clue. He doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t want to do anything fun with me. He just knows I exist but doesn’t think much of me.

My little brother…spoiled. Won’t obey anyone. Won’t let me talk to him without pulling out his childish whining voice. If I told him to clean up the water he spilt on the floor he would have a temper tantrum and I’d end up hurting my ears because of his damn high-pitched squeals and cleaning up the mess myself. He thinks he’s always right and no matter how much you try to help him he wants everything his way. My parent’s love my little brother to death. And they’ll always stand up for him no matter what.

Me. I hate myself. I have no self-esteem. I was brought up on the religion of Christianity but I don’t believe in God anymore. I was molested around the age of 6 or 7 by a person people would consider close to me. I can’t quite remember the age I was, but I know it was after we had moved out here. My mother beat me until the age of 10 or 11. Every once in a while since then I would get a slap on the face or something.
I was always the quiet person in class or anywhere else. When I spoke people didn’t like my opinion so I just learned to keep my mouth shut. I’m having trouble with that now though. I’ve been saying things I shouldn’t be, and it’s broken many friendships and has hurt people. I’ve never been greedy with money and I don’t buy myself nice things like everyone else.
My relatives seem to think I’m the best child in the world. So [i]”pretty”[/i] and wonderful. They don’t know who I am, I try not to let them know who I am so I won’t disappoint them. I don’t want to fake it anymore though. My family still doesn’t know that I don’t follow the Christian religion. I’m afraid to talk to people. Since people have always been telling me to keep my mouth shut and disagreeing with everything I say, I don’t want to set myself up for rejection. I have trouble saying “I love you.” I’ve never been able to say it and mean it.. well, there were a few exceptions. I was forced to tell my family that I love them. If I didn’t they would get this sad and hurt look on their face. So just to avoid seeing that, I tell them anyway.
People have told me that they love me… and it hurt. I knew it wasn’t true and they lied about it. I don’t like people who lie. There is [i][b]no[/i][/b] reason for anyone to lie. I’ve lost all trust in people. They have used me, lied to me, hurt me, and backstabbed me and I won’t let it happen again.
I was taught to speak in another language when I was young. When we moved here, we were just a bit farther from my grandmother. We didn’t go to see her as often and I forgot how to speak the language because we used English most of the time in my house. In ’96, I think, my grandmother died.
I traveled to my parents homeland and met almost all of my relatives that lived there. Since I had forgotten the language I had to relearn it and my accent was horrible and I would slip on some words when I was practicing it. In my head I knew every word but I couldn’t say it. Well, when we went to meet my aunt, I had to use my knowledge and my tongue. She gave me a hug, shook my hand and asked how I was. I said [i]”Good.”[/i] The first word out of my mouth and it was wrong. I had said it in the boys version. If you’re a boy or girl it depends what you say and how you say it. I said it wrong. Everyone was laughing at me. I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. My own family was laughing at me because I messed up the first time I tried to communicate with them. After that I figured I’d just not talk in that language. I can still understand everything though.

When my grandmother died I didn’t cry. When I found out my uncle(the one relative I didn’t see when I traveled there) had died, I didn’t cry. I was angry because my father could have taken me to see him before he was gone, but I never did cry. Death, for some odd reason, doesn’t affect me much. Everyone thinks I’m cold-hearted because I laughed when I found out someone had died.

You know, I fell in love once. [b]Real[/b] love. He cared about me like no other person I’ve ever known. Cheered me up when I was down, made me feel like I was worth something. He just cared about me, and…. I’ve never felt that kind of love from anyone before. He treated me like I was human. He wanted to listen to my thoughts, held me together when I was about to break apart. He was genuine. But I was confused, I didn’t know what love was and I thought this feeling that he gave me was… wrong I guess. I’m not sure how to explain it. But I screwed things up between me and him. I didn’t realize how much he cared till he was gone. I didn’t know how much I needed him. I regret what I said, and I’ll always blame myself for hurting him. I didn’t know.

Music is my escape from everything. I sing constantly. It’s one of the few things in life that actually make me happy. Without music… I just might be more insane than I already am.

I cry. More often than most people would think. I always have that depressed look on my face, but not many people have seen me cry. Only about four of my friends have. Everyone thinks I’m this tough girl who knows what she’s doing and doesn’t take shit from anyone. I’m nowhere near that. I’m not tough, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing half the time, and I take everyone’s shit because I’ve learned to not stand up for myself or my beliefs. What a great way to be raised.

I’ve never celebrated my birthday with more than a small cake and someone saying happy birthday. I figure I’m not that important anyway so why let it bother me.

This is very long. If you’ve reach this point…wow. I can’t believe you could concentrate on this thing for such a long time. There’s more that I would like to type… but my fingers are starting to hurt and I’m sure your eyes about to pop out of your head. Later.

~intoXication~