i cant remember a time where i felt truly loved by another human being. itâs an awful feeling. even my parents, to whom i am so sorry. they tried their best, but my childhood felt like i was in constant survival mode. i hardly remember anything from it, but what i remember is traumatizing. my sister. my beautiful sister. for years she wanted me dead. i think she was jealous, really. she saw an innocent child, and how she so desperately wanted that to be her. when i think of my childhood, i think of being chased with a knife. i think of watching my sister burn herself with a lighter. i think of the noose by the lake. i think of my brother screaming in my face. i think of classmates kicking me and calling me ugly, fat, stupid, worthless. i think of my first boyfriend, at 13 years old. he pleaded for me to go into the storage closet in our school with him, i think of him wishing i was sluttier, i think of him grabbing my face and telling me nobody else will love me like he does. i think of my classmate forcing my hand to wrap around him. i think of the girls who cut my hair, i think of the boys groping me, i think of the teachers turning away. i think of my grandmother bruising my wrist, calling me an idiot for thinking that boy liked me. i think of her speeding down the highway, wishing to kill us both. i think of second boyfriend, whom i dated for five years. he told me he loved me, but he did not like me. i was told i was exhausting to be around. frustrating, annoying, stressful, hardly worth it. every decision i made, he hated. i tried so hard to please him, but it was never enough. he kept a list, of everything he hated about me in his phone. i grew up loving him. i grew up being told that this was the best i could get. i did not deserve better, and i was lucky i didnt get worse.
even now, iâve been on many dates, had a few hookups, and silly me, i thought they would last. momentary pleasure and nights of intimacy, do not equal real love. iâll never learn my lesson, and iâll keep falling for it again and again. the only person i can think that may actually love me for who i am is on the other side of the planet. and thatâs just laughable. thatâs my luck. itâs pathetic really. iâm close to giving up, i think. giving up on what, i dont really know. iâve already tried killing myself 3 times before, and they didnt work. so whatâs the point in trying again? i keep believing the more i grow up, the more time passes, itâll get better. 21 years of that thinking, and nothing to show for it.