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This diary entry is written by twinkie95. ( View all entries )

How'd I Get Here?Category: (general)
Saturday, 14 May 2011
01:33:57 AM (GMT)
If anyone's reading this, I'm going to go ahead and tell you readers this isn't
actually for you. I'm writing this and I'm making it public just because I want to
say and show that I don't have anything to hide. I'm not afraid to express anything,
especially on here where everyone is a stranger to me.
When there's a point in life below rock bottom, one tends to think how the hell it
all got there. I'm taking that time right now to write down what I've thought about
over and over again, and I can only hope that no one in reality is reading this. It
all started when my mom gave birth to me at an extremely late age. So late that now
my dad's retired, and I'm only 15. Sometimes I think back, what if they never gave
birth to me? What if they didn't come to America to have me? Would they be living
happily without the everyday arguments centered around the petty items such as money?
Am I the cause of my family's disfunction? Perhaps, I was happy as a child. No, I
definitely was because I was carefree. Most of these days I'm positive that I had
known myself better as a 3 year old than as a teen. The year of my entrance to high
school as a freshman, my dad gets sick... with Hepatitis B. The doctors gave us a big
scare, saying it might've been cancer, and saying it could easily turn into cancer.
When I think back, I'm sure my dad's illness didn't affect me that much, but it made
my parents' relationship closer than ever. My mom took care of him, and for once he
was thankful. That whole time, I never really interfered. Maybe if I had, things
would've gone downhill between them. That was two years ago, and after two years he's
all better. Except he has no job, so he retired. He had reached that age anyways. Two
years later, he's all fixed up, and he goes back to his hometown for three months.
Three months, he missed out on my life during my sophomore year. Then again, as a
father he never really got involved in my life. Everything I did, I usually did
alone. My parents weren't much of a help for anything anyways. Bad english slows
everything down when the lives take place in America. Point is, I did everything
alone as soon I had reached the age to be able to. My mom took care of me, and she
tried her best to be involved. I love her for that, but my dad. When he talks to me,
there's nothing more to say besides go to sleep, drink your milk, take a shower, or
turn on the lights. What happened to how was your day? He doesn't know when school
ends, and when he first got back from China he didn't even call me by my name. He
forgets my birthday, and he forgets I'm allergic to peanuts. Sure he loves me, but he
never says it, and he never shows it because as a father he never took care of me. He
dumped me onto mom and she took me in without complaint. Even after all of that, my
dad has to betray. Once he got back from China, mom found out he was having an
affair. His secret email inbox was filled with love notes back and forth between him
and that woman. Oh my poor mother. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. She lost
weight. And of the climax of one of the nights she bawled her eyes out. Where was I?
At first it was exciting. It was something I only saw in movies. Then it turned
terrifying. then I started to cry... alone... by my lake. And when I called up a
friend, he could only listen. What did he do to comfort me? NOTHING. What did my
parents do? Nothing. What did my friends do? Nothing. No one knew, and really that
was all I needed. A shoulder to cry on. Cheesy as it sounds... crying into stuffed
animals gets old eventually. My home's atmosphere is constantly tense. I work to pay
for myself to ease the load of my parents. I set up online bill payments so they
wouldn't ever forget. Anything wrong in technology, I fix it. Anything they need help
with like taxes, I'll take care of. I'm ok with all of this responsibility, but the
tension doesn't go away. Sometimes, just because a person's alone doesn't mean
they're lonely, but sometimes... when I'm alone... I feel lonely. I've cut myself
before. I'm not emo nor gothic. In fact, I'm far from that. I'm involved in Student
Government and pageants. But that's only what everyone else sees. No one sees the
scars. I just want to scream to the world that I'm not happy! There's distractions
with friends and school, but when I lay in bed alone at night, I squirm in my bed
sheets with that empty stomach feeling screaming inside my head and wanting to just
cry until I was out of tears. And if I've spoken these in past terms... they apply
for the present as well.

TieMyShoes says:   14 May 2011   656051  
to much to read in a short day
twinkie95 says:   14 May 2011   865979  
Then don't read it lol
TieMyShoes says:   14 May 2011   575857  
half today and half tomorrow..........ok?
twinkie95 says :   14 May 2011   206363  
lol or u dont have to read it at all :P im happy either way


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