I hate that people say and think, "it happened so long ago, why don't you just get over it?", "everyone had a lousey childhood, so what? Move on", "why do you keep bringing up the same shit over and over and over again?", "why don't you love your mother and father...what's wrong with you?"
I hate that most don't understand my wretched pain. I hate that I have worked so fucking hard to keep it hidden inside. I hate that I believed hate was wrong and that I was evil for secretly harboring hateful thoughts All These Years.
I hated life for days upon days and years upon years. I hated waking up still fucking alive, knowing full well what each day would bring. I hate the people that I mistakenly believed loved me. It was all lies...but I believed it, everyone around me wanted me to believe them, mom and dad were so fucking sure they loved me and I was fucking sure they were wrong and I fucking hated them, their every breath, an insult, I wanted them dead so very badly. I wanted to wake up to shotgun blasts and find them murdered/ suicided downstairs in the living room. It was my only hope of freedom, that they would off each other in a murderous rage. And it fucking never happened and I hated myself for harboring such ill will.
I hated that my siblings professed to love them. I hated that other amity members loved them, that anyone thought well or highly of them...I hated that, cause they didn't know, didn't know what they did in their own house, to their own kids and I so wanted to set the record straight and I could never find a way to tell them, to say the truth. I hate that I was a secret, deviant pleasure that was used as an outward expression of how much they hated their own piddley lives. I hate that I was a fucking punching bag, child sex toy and the embodiment, the target of every ouch of anger and hatred they had ever experienced.
I hate how much they hated me with every fucking fiber of their being, with their eyes, stares, angry, spittle flying mouths and venom filled words. While professing such deep, abiding love for their children, they looked at me with lust and hate.
I hated living every day. I hated breathing, being hungry and never being fed. I hated craving affection only to find it in dark basements. I hated the needs my body had, it needed, wanted, craved so much..denied, denied, denied. Why on earth was I fucking put here to suffer so? I didn't get it. Some fucked up sick joke. I hated being born over and over and over.
I hated walking amongst people and kids who looked happy, content, loved and fed whose biggest worry was trying to get an A in class, or a date for the prom. I hated that I had to constantly try and find ways to steal money to but food, think of ways to dissuade parents from hitting me, and of not being caught alone with my dad.
I hated the fucking secrets, secrets and lies. I had to always say that everything was fine, I wasnt hungry, I wasn't hurting, i wasn't being forced to have sex with my dad.
I have such hatred, jealousy, anger at no one for fucking helping me. No one. No one. Not a single soul. So I figured I must have deserved it all. This was my lot in life, nothing more. I became thoroughly attached to that identity. Fully believing I need to suffer to be alive. This my karmic truth. Didn't know what it was Not to suffer. Not suffering is kinda confusing when it was all that I knew and experienced and no one wanted to hear it, acknowledge it, but pretend it didn't exist. Who lives in a fantasy word now? Let's not believe what she says...it's too painful and heart breaking to truly know how much pain she is in and how much she really suffered.
I sometimes hate that I didn't off myself a long, long time ago. Hate that I got weak when opportunities arose.
I really hate that no one loved me. I do really hate that.
Childish thoughts..I hate I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, worthy enough to someone earn love. Hate that I always thought their actions were a direct result of something I did or didn't do, which was never the case. Hate that I was such an easy target, victim, autistic, quiet, loyal.
Hate that no one....listened to my silence.
No one saw the truth in my eyes....the frail, sickly little bruised body.
Felt life deceived me, was always tricking me, hope was a stupid, absolutely absurd word. I had no hope.
Hated living like an animal, with dirty hole-filled clothes, eating small scraps and stealing food when I could. Relegated to a very subpar station in life and seeing all around me the opulence of normality, of the non-animals who had warm beds and full bellies.
Hate that my adult life is a day to day struggle to heal my broken childhood...and few people can really understand it.
Hate that I think I still hold on to that need to suffer because I was bad, because I lived it so long. Hate that I thought god hated me along with every body else. Hate that I thought I needed punishment, suffering, malady after malady because it's what I deserved.
Probably always hate that they didn't, couldn't love me....need to get over that...outside their capabilities.
Wonder if under all these heaps of hatred...if I can ever love myself....and forgive. I wonder.
Maybe I'll stop hating myself.
Maybe I'll stop lying to myself and continue to be honest about my feelings good and bad.
Therapys a Bitch! And kind, caring people continue to befuddle me with their extremely strange behaviour.
Deserve it...yeah, working on accepting this new breed of people surrounding me.
Not gonna beat myself up for beating dead horses, for repeating old lines, for rehashing things that bother me.
Heart chakra issues....releasing hatred trying to find ways to love myself, genuinely, for the first time.
Acknowledging, letting go of so veryvery much hatred that I've kept hidden inside, afraid to offend anyone with my truth.
Time to let go of hating myself, my thoughts and feelings. It's just me.
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