Wadap

welp. guess i’m doing this again. i don’t even know why i’m posting here after being gone for so long. part of me hates that i’m even writing this, like i’m dragging the ghost of my younger self back out just to humiliate them all over again. but i guess when you’ve got nowhere else to put the noise in your head, it ends up here.

it’s been just a bit more than ten years since my first post. back then i used to kind of roleplay my problems on here, turn them into characters because that was easier than admitting what was actually happening. some people were kind. others saw a lonely kid and used that. i was just trying to find somewhere that didn’t hurt so much. tumblr was both a comfort and a wound.

not long after cps took me and my brother away from our mom, i stopped being active here. they handed us to our dad, the same one who’d been drinking himself mean for as long as i could remember. i thought maybe being with him would make things better, but it didn’t. he yelled, mocked our mom, blamed us for everything. our half sister cut him off a few years later. i wish i could’ve done the same.

after that, i just disappeared. stopped posting, stopped talking. it was easier to go quiet than keep explaining pain no one could fix.

somewhere along the way i picked up my own bad habits trying to cope. it started small, just trying to numb things, but it turned into something bigger. the worst part is that my dad didn’t try to stop it—he almost encouraged it, as long as it kept me quiet and kept him supplied. i guess in a house like this, self-destruction just runs in the family.

years passed. i managed to leave once, had a job, a small place, a bit of quiet. then i got sick. the chronic kind that doesn’t go away. lost everything and ended up back here. same walls, same noise, same fear.

my dad’s still drinking. my stepmom’s still pretending he’s not that bad. she actually told our doctor everything once, said this situation is killing me, and for a moment i thought she finally saw it too. but a week later, when my brother finally snapped and hit him after he got drunk on his own birthday, she went right back to defending him. like it never happened. like we were the crazy ones.

the doctor says my body’s falling apart from all of this. i can feel it. i don’t even need her to tell me.

so yeah. i’m tired, sick, stuck. it’s been more than a decade since that first post, and somehow i’m still here, saying the same things to the same empty void.

i don’t even know if anyone will read this. most of the people who used to be here probably quit tumblr years ago, and honestly, i can’t blame them. if you did somehow make it this far, thanks for reading all this mess i just dumped out.

maybe this is just what life decided i get. maybe this is the punchline.