You wouldn’t get it when you’ve grown up with both parents treating you with respect. Now brand orientated like it’s no big deal. Guess shoes. Holister scarf. You don’t understand how the other have live.
That is question that is not asked often enough. But when they do, It’s in large groups when there is no point explaining why to them as they won’t understand. Nobody understands.
"The only thing that is killing me is making me feel alive."
Do you know what’s worse? Stereotypical children who are abused are quite and don’t talk.But then studies say when you are loud and giddy, they are the ones hiding something.
So because I didn’t know it was wrong, I thought ever family was like this,Therefore i got no help, and nobody found out. I don’t get it, is that when a child says they are scared to go home, you should respond with following it up. Not talking to the parent they are afraid of, with them answering “ahh sure nothings wrong”
When I was about 13 I started drinking heavily and smoking pot every day. I also used whatever drugs I could get, just to get out of it, so I didn’t have to think about anything. I wagged just about every day, until the school told my parents and my dad bashed me up so bad to punish me.
I hated school because I was always in trouble for having fights with other kids or with the teachers. But also I hated being at home. I used to stay over at friend’s houses, and sometimes I would sleep out in car parks. The more I stayed away, the more scared I was of going back home, cos I knew I would get a belting for running away. I started sleeping in the city, in doorways or wherever, and hanging out with other kids there. It still was better than going home.
Im in the old house where i have once spent my life with you..these dingy rooms still echo the things i have spoken to you..the laughter and the sob..many a fight and make up…I had stuck stickers of stars that glow in the dark on walls of this dark room that once was mine…I remember how excitedly i used to tell you about them…some are intact,still shining a dull green..particularly the jupiter that used to be my favourite….isnt it pretty ironic considering the fact that you have never actually ‘been’ here..
Its unbelievable that 15 years have passed hence…i was groping through the dust and cobwebs,and i stumbled on a chair..i heard something fall down from it on the floor…a dim blue light lit up from it…its the same old white phone that has been a witness to everything…instinct made me look up for the call history…It was full of the details of our old conversations…138 minutes starting time 0012, 27th january 2008…sleepless nights talking sweet nothings…i went to inbox,checked for text messages and read a random message that went, ‘go to bed and text me ill call you’….I hugged the old dusty pillow and curled up on the same old bed,and cried like i used to 15 years back,but this time for a reason i dont know
I don’t care how long it’s been since the last time i tasted your lips. I don’t care how long, or short that it lasted. I still miss you and those drunken nights we had together. As we pressed our bodies together, hand in hand. Sharing things i had never said to anyone, ever. You kept to yourself, even though you knew deep down all you ever wanted for me was peace. Maybe thats why you left. You felt death is how you’d achieve this. Oh what i’d give to see your face once more, to hear your laugh, see your smile. Look into your eyes and for once not lie, and tell you the truth. Love, i loved you, yet you never knew. You never knew how i stayed up late waiting for your text’s. You never knew how it made me smile, when i had 27 un-read messages in my inbox. How you made me blush, when you leant over me. But you never knew, and this knowledge will never reach you up in the sky.
All i can do now is stay in bed and pray to God, that it wasn’t painful.
I was watching a show and one of the characters explained that his dad had depression and how he had to get some external help at an institute. He continued to explain that he never thought about what his dad was going through, but how it effected him and his mom, how much stress it added to their lives. But only to his visit to a institute 20 years later did he start to think about how it actually effected his dad, an what he was going through. For me I think this is how a lot of people think about mental disorders or anything of that sorts. You’re not being selfish. You’re not doing it for attention. Under no circumstances is it your fault that you have depression.
4. I was 4 when it happened. “Jesus” he was startled, “for how long?” He persisted. Well I guess till I was 10ish whatever. It’s nothing, nobody cared and it’s not going to make a difference now. I was labeled a brat but in actual fact I was a 6 year old telling the truth. But nobody cared and nobody listened, I was “spoiled” , I “didn’t appreciate” anything. So what was I to do. When everyday you go home scared, a 4 year old scared to go home because they don’t want another bruise from “the door”.
I’m too interesting he exclaimed. Nothing beats me I guess. It’s funny tho, how I’ve been though so much yet they know so little. Stuff you only tell you best best friend wont come out of these lips. This year is different. Time for a change. I can’t be carrying old baggage around and neither can I carry other people’s baggage either. It may be selfish. It may be insensitive. But it’s time for change, and I’m not sorry