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"Learn To Be Happy"
Posted August 20th 2010 at 06:53 AM by LlamaLlamaDuck
Feeling worthless, self destruction
trying to take control of this.
Find a purpose, reconstruction
write it somewhere it will stick.
And the stars are hiding now
but there’s something out there still.
And she knows, yeah she knows
there’s an awful lot of beauty in this world
As I’m typing, I can’t help noticing the small red lines on the back of my wrist. Evidence of yesterday’s mistakes. Won’t be too long before they’re gone, but they, like the memories, will leave their mark. I’m already plagued by memories I wish didn’t exist every day. Things in my past that were said, or done, and my feck they hurt. Do they ever. But I guess memories kind of make us, well, us. You take the good with the bad and if you don’t want to remember, then that’s your choice, but you can never fully forget.
I wrote, creatively, about memories a while ago. Like so many of my other creative writings, it was negative. Yet my negativity seems somewhat good when it comes to writing things. My teacher thinks my creative writing section was what got the highest score in my Advanced English exam. Makes me glad I ignored the person who told me “For God’s sake can’t you be less depressing. You’re good at writing, I won’t deny that, but can’t you write something cheerful and learn to be happy?!”
Answer: No. I can’t. I can’t write something cheerful because I have nothing to be cheerful about. And if it was that easy to just LEARN to be happy, don’t you think I’d have done that 3 1/2 years ago? Don’t you think that if it was that easy, you would have had ANYTHING to blackmail me with. Because guess what? The fact that I refused to eat in or before school, that I was writing about blood through first hand experience, you think any of that would have happened if I could just “learn to be happy”? If I could learn how to not be the way I am, do you think that because of everything that happened this year I would have did what did in March? If I could learn. Then I would.
Oh I would and I would never have to face any negative emotions again. No more tears or blood or numbers. No more voices and thoughts and urges.
I wish I could have the courage to contact you, to tell you what you’ve done
If only you knew.
For 8 years you would tell me that my parents were bad parents. That they didn’t think I was enough. Slowly, bit by bit you destroyed any peace of mind I had with the ones I love. Every friend I had you said was no good and I should get rid of them. You denied stalking me, well maybe that was a little harsh. But checking up on me online, finding out what I was saying or doing, pushing it to the point that I was afraid to go near that site because I knew you were watching.
I can’t have people behind me when I’m alone without panicking. I lost a lot of trust and have constant feelings that the ones I care about are conspiring against me. That they’re saying negative things about me and really are just pretending to like me. Effectively, what you told me about my parents. I can’t open my bedroom curtains or blinds, I can’t cook or do anything in the kitchen without the windows being covered. The door has to be locked when I’m home alone. I am SO convinced that I’m being watched. Because of you.
I tried to kill myself this year, while there were other reasons behind it, in the letter to my family, I told my dad that I hoped maybe without me, his family could reconcile and everything would be alright. I had a suicide note to my brother apologising for having him in the middle of this fight.
He should never have had ANYTHING to do with it. He was 11 years old. And you decided to tell him that his big sister was cutting her arms. What a lovely aunt you were. You were too cowardly to tell my parents because you KNEW I would tell them how you had been blackmailing me so instead you turn to my 11 year old brother. You’re pathetic and you’re weak and you’re cowardly.
You’re just a sad lonely old woman. You don’t deserve what you have. A wonderful husband, a daughter that, had she grown up a little less spoiled and self centred could have been the most beautiful and caring person, too bad she learned from you.
And as for your father. I pity him. I pity him that at the age he’s at, he has to live in a house with you.
And you know what? Just knowing that I share the same blood as you do is an EXCELLENT reason to be cutting just to get any minuscule part of you as far away from me as is humanly possible. I hate you. I hate every part of you. I hate what you’ve done to me and my family.
I hate that my brother still sees you and could so easily be hearing you tell him what bad parents my Mum and Dad are, and that he’d be too afraid to tell anyone because it would cause more trouble and he couldn’t see my grandfather anymore. Well do you know what? You do NOT have him cornered and you WILL NOT cause any more harm to this family.
I’m going to finish that letter I started to my Granddad and I’m going to send it to him. I’m going to apologise to him and ask him for the chance to be able to see him. I’m going to fix things. I’m going to make it so that when my brother sees his grandfather he doesn’t have to be alone. Because I’ll be there and my parents will be there. And you can’t do a DAMNED thing about it. I don’t care if we’re not welcome in that house. I wouldn’t go near it with a ten foot bargepole, especially if you were there. He can come to us. I’ll make him dinner, I’ll talk to him. I’ll have a proper relationship like I should have with my grandfather and YOU CAN’T STOP ME.
Have a nice life.
Bitch.
trying to take control of this.
Find a purpose, reconstruction
write it somewhere it will stick.
And the stars are hiding now
but there’s something out there still.
And she knows, yeah she knows
there’s an awful lot of beauty in this world
As I’m typing, I can’t help noticing the small red lines on the back of my wrist. Evidence of yesterday’s mistakes. Won’t be too long before they’re gone, but they, like the memories, will leave their mark. I’m already plagued by memories I wish didn’t exist every day. Things in my past that were said, or done, and my feck they hurt. Do they ever. But I guess memories kind of make us, well, us. You take the good with the bad and if you don’t want to remember, then that’s your choice, but you can never fully forget.
I wrote, creatively, about memories a while ago. Like so many of my other creative writings, it was negative. Yet my negativity seems somewhat good when it comes to writing things. My teacher thinks my creative writing section was what got the highest score in my Advanced English exam. Makes me glad I ignored the person who told me “For God’s sake can’t you be less depressing. You’re good at writing, I won’t deny that, but can’t you write something cheerful and learn to be happy?!”
Answer: No. I can’t. I can’t write something cheerful because I have nothing to be cheerful about. And if it was that easy to just LEARN to be happy, don’t you think I’d have done that 3 1/2 years ago? Don’t you think that if it was that easy, you would have had ANYTHING to blackmail me with. Because guess what? The fact that I refused to eat in or before school, that I was writing about blood through first hand experience, you think any of that would have happened if I could just “learn to be happy”? If I could learn how to not be the way I am, do you think that because of everything that happened this year I would have did what did in March? If I could learn. Then I would.
Oh I would and I would never have to face any negative emotions again. No more tears or blood or numbers. No more voices and thoughts and urges.
I wish I could have the courage to contact you, to tell you what you’ve done
If only you knew.
For 8 years you would tell me that my parents were bad parents. That they didn’t think I was enough. Slowly, bit by bit you destroyed any peace of mind I had with the ones I love. Every friend I had you said was no good and I should get rid of them. You denied stalking me, well maybe that was a little harsh. But checking up on me online, finding out what I was saying or doing, pushing it to the point that I was afraid to go near that site because I knew you were watching.
I can’t have people behind me when I’m alone without panicking. I lost a lot of trust and have constant feelings that the ones I care about are conspiring against me. That they’re saying negative things about me and really are just pretending to like me. Effectively, what you told me about my parents. I can’t open my bedroom curtains or blinds, I can’t cook or do anything in the kitchen without the windows being covered. The door has to be locked when I’m home alone. I am SO convinced that I’m being watched. Because of you.
I tried to kill myself this year, while there were other reasons behind it, in the letter to my family, I told my dad that I hoped maybe without me, his family could reconcile and everything would be alright. I had a suicide note to my brother apologising for having him in the middle of this fight.
He should never have had ANYTHING to do with it. He was 11 years old. And you decided to tell him that his big sister was cutting her arms. What a lovely aunt you were. You were too cowardly to tell my parents because you KNEW I would tell them how you had been blackmailing me so instead you turn to my 11 year old brother. You’re pathetic and you’re weak and you’re cowardly.
You’re just a sad lonely old woman. You don’t deserve what you have. A wonderful husband, a daughter that, had she grown up a little less spoiled and self centred could have been the most beautiful and caring person, too bad she learned from you.
And as for your father. I pity him. I pity him that at the age he’s at, he has to live in a house with you.
And you know what? Just knowing that I share the same blood as you do is an EXCELLENT reason to be cutting just to get any minuscule part of you as far away from me as is humanly possible. I hate you. I hate every part of you. I hate what you’ve done to me and my family.
I hate that my brother still sees you and could so easily be hearing you tell him what bad parents my Mum and Dad are, and that he’d be too afraid to tell anyone because it would cause more trouble and he couldn’t see my grandfather anymore. Well do you know what? You do NOT have him cornered and you WILL NOT cause any more harm to this family.
I’m going to finish that letter I started to my Granddad and I’m going to send it to him. I’m going to apologise to him and ask him for the chance to be able to see him. I’m going to fix things. I’m going to make it so that when my brother sees his grandfather he doesn’t have to be alone. Because I’ll be there and my parents will be there. And you can’t do a DAMNED thing about it. I don’t care if we’re not welcome in that house. I wouldn’t go near it with a ten foot bargepole, especially if you were there. He can come to us. I’ll make him dinner, I’ll talk to him. I’ll have a proper relationship like I should have with my grandfather and YOU CAN’T STOP ME.
Have a nice life.
Bitch.
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