I know what the title implies. This is no suicide note, before anyone throws that accusation my direction. This is me, putting my thoughts down. This has been on my mind for some time now, and I've talked with friends about it, but it's still there. Maybe putting it here, out in the open, will make me feel like I was heard.
I am in pain. I've been in pain for the last ten years, but it is especially bad now. I feel cold. Empty. Alone. Tormented by a troubled past, and that's putting it mildly. I try to talk about it with what few friends I have left, but they have heard it all before. And they're miles away, and can do little more than talk me down. As I said, I have few friends left. Too few. The ones I had have... vanished. I lack the knowledge, and at this point, the inclination, to contact them. Worse, I live in a rural area. There is no society out here, no way to make new friends. Reinforcing my loneliness. Under normal circumstances, one would drive to social areas for social interaction, make new friends there. I lack that freedom. My mother, though it remains unclear why, has refused to allow me to be independent. She refuses to allow me to learn to drive, so that I might remedy this. She knows I feel alone and want to get out, but refuses to allow me the means to fix this. She is seemingly intent on prolonging my suffering, to imprison me here, doing the same job, stuck in the same place, for as long as she wants. I have tried to talk to mom about this, but she refuses to hear me out. Like all parental figures, she hears, but does not listen. She cares not for anyone's hopes and dreams but her own. She says she'd love to see me as an independent member of society, yet she keeps me locked up here like a prisoner. More and more, I get the feeling I am but a mere tool to her, a resource.
This is why I turned to online dating. I hoped to find someone who understood. But all I have found is people who feign empathy and understanding, pretending to listen, then leaving me when I feel I've made any sort of connection. This has happened several times, and has added to my pain with the feelings of being unloved, used, and cast aside. More than once, my friend has had to talk me down when I feel that my life is destined to be one of nothing but pain, suffering and loneliness. They had to talk me down from... certain things, remind me of why I refuse to give up. But that's all they can do. Talk me down. It is beginning to be not enough. I have grown tired of telling my story to those with only a passing interest in me, and I am angry because I see others move on with their lives, yet I am denied - DENIED - the opportunity to do the same. I have a shrinking list of friends (one of whom, the one who has talked me down on more than one occasion, may be losing contact with me because of family matters), no real independence, no way of reaching out, and no one to talk to. No one who will listen, and even fewer who understand. I have yet to meet someone who understands what it means to be me, to suffer as I have. And because of MY OWN FAMILY, I am denied the means to seek them out.
Why do I suffer? I have asked myself that same question for the last ten years. And I have never found any real answer. This was all because of my tyrant ex-stepfather. When I was young, I was gullible, easily tricked, and prone to imitation. I imitated others often. I am accused of being mentally-unstable because I was reported to have told my class (AND DO NOT BLOCK THIS, IT MUST BE KNOWN TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM SAYING HERE) of suicidal thoughts. Did I say that? Yes. Did I know what it meant? Back then, no. I had no way of knowing. I was never taught the meaning behind it. Again, back then, I had a habit of mimicking others. I was mimicking another student who had said the same thing days before. My ex-stepfather took advantage of the repercussions that caused and made me out to be a mentally-unstable freak. Did I also mention I had anger problems? Yeah. I was never taught to control it. It was only allowed, either intentionally or due to inept teachers, to grow unchecked. And my tyrant ex-stepfather used that. He used everything I was back then to create a web of lies and deceit that snared even my mother. And it snared me, too. I was tricked into believing something that was a LIE. Who among you knows what it's like to be diagnosed as bipolar in fourth grade? Do you know what kind of life you live after that? And worse, as I said - it was a LIE. Too late, I realized I was tricked. By then, it was too late - as the years went on, things got worse. First progressively - then, nearly exponentially. The more I was tormented by my peers for what I was, the more I was denied any kind of outlet for my rage, and the more my ex-stepfather used it to reinforce his lies. Never once was I asked for my side of the story. Never once was I asked why I was angry. No. why I was enraged. Why I lashed out. I was labeled, and once the fun had been had with me, cast aside. But it gets worse: I learned my stepfather was having an affair while he was married to my mother. I saw it as a chance for vengeance, vindication - to prove he was a liar and a traitor. I blew the cover off that affair, and my mother divorced the b*****d. But it didn't end there - she was so blinded by his lies, she became the tyrant in his place. He knew. She was never around to see what really happened. How do I know? She drove freight trucks for a trucking company. She was gone for weeks at a time, only ever being home for a day or two. And every time she was home, she was too tired to hear my cries. When she divorced my ex-stepfather, she moved my brothers and I to where we are now. But now, as I said, she became the tyrant in his place. I was taken from one hell and put in another. She refused to allow me freedom when I felt I earned it. Even today, ten years after I exposed my tyrant ex-stepfather as the liar and traitor he is, she fights to preserve his lies.
I know what you're thinking. I need a councilor, or therapy. THINK AGAIN. I tried that. All I got was the same lies. They refused to consider my story. They just took mom at her word. And it wasn't even her words she was speaking. Just the lies of another tyrant repeated by a different voice. So I feigned what they wanted. I knew they would not listen. They never have, they never will. I sought understanding elsewhere. But again, all I have found is lies wearing a mask of what I seek. Acceptance. Compassion. Empathy. Sympathy. Ten years, I have been like this. I'm now 26 years old. I have had a harsh, unforgiving childhood. I have seen more trauma than I care to remember. And what do I get, after a lifetime of blood and suffering? Left to suffer alone, because I am of no interest to anyone. Locked away from a society I want to be a part of because my own family has no conception of truth. And every time I try to open their eyes, my situation gets worse. Most of all, I long for the chance to find someone who truly cares about me, who accepts me despite my sensitivity and tendency to be down. Someone who doesn't blame me for being as dark as I am, and who wants to try to make a difference. But all I get is lies, pain, then... loneliness and silence.
What have I done wrong? Who have I wronged to deserve this? What must I do to find someone who understands? Who must I talk to to make people see I am not what I was made out to be? When will I have what I was denied? As I read it: Denial breeds want. Want breeds suffering. Suffering breeds anger. I burn in Anger for what I was denied. How long must I suffer before I see justice?
I say again, I write this because I hope it will make me feel like I was heard. In hopes that someone will answer. Understand. I know I don't seem like everything you just read, if you read this far. I know how to control myself, keep all this from showing. Even so, from time to time... it slips out, shows in ways I don't foresee. But few ever see the truth, even when it shows. Even when I look ready to lash out, all they see is a raging monster. Never once in the ten years I've been in Arkansas has anyone looked past the scowl, had the courage to ask "why?". In the last ten years, no one has had the courage to seek answers, to venture in the dark depths of my past and see my pain at it's source. Mom, especially, has refused to ask questions. Easier for her to accept the lies than face the truth.
Mods, admins, staff... I beg you, do not block any of this. I have tried to word this as best I could without breaking any rules. The intent here is to get my story out, get it off my mind, make me feel like it's out in the open for everyone to see. I want people to see me as I truly am, not as the monster I was made out to be. The creature I was tricked into becoming. I want, starting with the people here, the society I want to be among to see I am not what they think I am. That I was tricked into believing a lie, and now suffer because of it.
If I die alone and unloved, I want to die knowing I wrote all this down, so that someone will see what happened to me and find the courage to not let it happen to someone else. No one should suffer as I have.
--RF
Topic: I tire of this. (Read 795 times)